Diversify Your Interests For Fewer Worries
by EvilEatingSanta
Summary: High school MR. Mark can't clap in rhythm, and Roger thinks it's funny. Title is from a Jones Soda bottle cap...heh. WILL BE CONTINUED.
1. These Are the Fables

**AN: **Another one-shot? What? Yes. Sorry, but I fear Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth won't be updated this weekend... 6 hour play practice followed by 20 pages of notes to take for class? Yeah, no thanks.

So instead I wrote this, a little highschool one(possibly two?)-shot for Katie, my friend, whose birthday was...last week. Heh, I love you Katie! Hope you like it!

**Disclaimer: **Rent isn't mine, though if I could I'd wrap it up in a delicious box and give it to Katie for her birthday!

**Notes:** Morrissey equals The Smiths equals not mine. Clear?

* * *

"Mark Cohen?" I raise my hand, moving it out from under my chin where it had been previously holding my head up. The teacher nods towards me and checks my name off before pointing me to a seat in the front row. 

Moving sluggishly (it _is_ only 3rd hour…) I pick my bag up off of the floor and carry it with me to my new seat. I hate seating charts designed around last names. I always get the front row.

School started a few days ago, taking with it my carefree days of sleeping in until noon, waking up, walking around outside all day taking pictures of random things, before falling back into bed and doing it all over again the next day. Nobody said summer vacation had to be eventful.

In any case, I think I can safely say that I haven't missed waking up at ungodly hours of the day, and I've heard from Cindy, my sister, that sophomore year is one of the worst, homework-wise. Another reason to get excited for this school year.

"Roger Davis?" I yawn loudly behind my hand, resisting the urge to fall asleep right here, in this uncomfortable plastic chair without a desk. I guess desks aren't really useful for choir.

My mom signed me up for choir, insisting that, since Cindy had gotten a scholarship due to a recommendation letter written for her by the choir director, I, too, have a wonderful voice and should use it to my advantages. I tried to reason with her; I don't have a good voice, I'd rather have 6 hours and _not _be in choir, I don't like to sing, but all of them were quickly, and easily, shot down with a glare and threatening to ground me. Or take my camera away. Whichever comes first.

And so here I am, sophomore year in high school with a 7 hour day and little social life. Not like I ever had one to begin with.

My sister's always been the popular one, the pretty, fun, smart, well liked girl whom everyone wishes they could be. She's nice enough to me, I suppose, but we've never been close.

Freshman year, last year, Cindy was a senior, and I, being her little brother, was immediately expected to live up to her. To be exactly like her. I'm sorry to say I disappointed a few teachers in that aspect.

I'm not _unpopular_, just quiet. I don't talk much during school, or outside of school. I have friends, sure, people who wave to me in between classes and who I talk to sparingly inside of classes, but other than that I generally keep to myself. I don't mind it, and over time teachers and friends of Cindy have accepted me as the complete opposite of my sister that I am.

"Susie Derrick?" I glance over my shoulder, eyeing the chair with the desk I had been sitting in previously. Why is there only one chair with a desk? My eyelids droop heavily, remembering the 3 hours of sleep I'd gotten last night and knowing that I would give anything to sit in that seat with my head nestled in my arms on the desk.

And so begins another school year.

I hear some annoying creaking noise come from my right, and when I glance over I see the boy sitting next to me stretching, his back curving against the chair, his arms high in the air behind his head. The person sitting behind him makes a face when his hands almost hit them, but otherwise ignores him as he brings his arms back to himself.

I focus again on the elderly teacher who is calling for attention, but continue to watch the boy next to me out of the corner of my eye. This kid lives in _Scarsdale_?

He's got messy, bleach blonde hair that sticks out sloppily, and I half wonder if maybe it's unintentional, like he just rolled out of bed this morning. Four earrings line his left ear and a few, tight choker-necklaces are wrapped around his neck. Thick leather bracelets are clasped around his wrists, and I watch as he drums his hands idly on the side of his chair. His fingernails are painted black.

My eyes fall to his jeans, which are ripped and tattered, holes showing skin at his thighs, his knees, his shins… I watch as one of his giant, black boots taps heavily on the floor, and I distantly wonder if he ever sits still.

"Alright, class, since we've had a few days to get to know each other…" I mentally roll my eyes, remembering the first few days of school. Ice-breakers, and get-to-know-your-classmates games and classroom rules and school rules and itineraries…most boring days of my life. I don't remember seeing the kid who sits next to me, either. I guess he was smart and decided to skip out. "Today we're going to do some exercises with rhythm."

A silent groan fills the room, each kid sighing lightly under their breath and muttering empty curses in their heads until you can actually _feel_ the complaints rolling around the room. Nothing needs to be said, and the teacher quirks an eyebrow at us.

"Oh, come on. It won't be too hard," she says enthusiastically, smiling broadly from her position at the front of the classroom. I never understood how teachers can be so awake and cheerful in the morning. It's like they get pleasure from giving their students meaningless and useless simple tasks to do. Like rhythm exercises, for example.

"What I want you all to do," she says, turning her back to us to draw something on the chalkboard, "is to clap this rhythm." She steps away from the chalkboard, obviously pleased with the complex and intricate notes she's created, all of them strung together to form a complicated rhythm exercise. Basically it's four dots in a row.

"Christ…" I hear the kid next to me mumble, and look over to see him rubbing his hands over his face in a tired way. He looks up to see me watching him, and I smirk and roll my eyes. He grins and turns back to watch the teacher as she demonstrates what we're supposed to do.

"Now, here's where it gets a little tricky," she says, drawing more dots on the board that are strung together by a line at the top, "these are eighth notes." She taps her foot to a beat and claps the eighth notes in sharp, quick sounds as she brings her hands together. Someone raises their hand.

"Um…Ms. Frasier?" she says timidly, and the teacher lowers her hands.

"Yes…what was your name…" she goes back to check the seating chart before smiling once she's found the correct name, "Yes, Bethany?"

"I think everyone in this classroom knows what half notes, quarter notes, and eighth notes are…" Bethany trails, and the look on Ms. Frasier's face turns sour.

"Oh? This is Concert Choir, not Symphonic Choir. I know most of you have taken some form of music lessons before, but I'm forced to go over the basics in this class," she says, emphasizing the word 'forced' and saying the word 'basics' like it were poison, spitting it off of her tongue. The room falls silent again. "Now, please, clap this next rhythm with me."

Some laughing is heard from the back as everyone shifts in their seats to get ready to clap, and I glance over my shoulder to see the girl, Bethany, blushing as her friends turn to whisper excitedly with her.

"Alright, ready set, here you go," Ms. Frasier says each word in time with the beat, and everyone claps together. Everyone that is, except for me. Shit…

I blush furiously when I realize that I'm probably the only kid in this class without the ability to clap a few quarter notes. I forgot to mention how completely _not_ musically oriented I am.

I glance around, hoping no one noticed and breathing a sigh of relief when I see no one has. Thank God.

"That was good. Are we ready for eighth notes yet?" Ms. Frasier asks, and a few mumbled 'yes'es are the only answer she receives.

I almost say 'no', but decide against it when I notice the completely bored, blank expression on everyone else's face. So instead I sit up in my chair, furrow my brow and square my shoulders, determined to get the next rhythm right.

* * *

Ten rhythms and half an hour later I'm fake clapping my way through class. This shit doesn't make any sense to me, and it bugs the hell out of me but after I accidentally once clapped after everyone else was done with the rhythm I decided to just forget about it and pretend to clap. Who needs to know how to clap in rhythm, anyway? 

I cast a sidelong glance to the kid sitting next to me, feeling even more inadequate when I see that he's practically asleep while still clapping the newest rhythm. Oh well…

The bell rings, giving more substance to the phrase 'saved by the bell' as the teacher turns to have us clap a newer, more difficult rhythm than before.

"Alright, class. See you tomorrow," Ms. Frasier says warmly, smiling as she watches us grab our things and head out for lunch.

I turn to leave when I see the kid who sits next to me still in his seat, his chin dropped onto his chest with his arms crossed loosely over his stomach. His chest rises and falls gently every time he breathes, and I quickly realize he's asleep.

"Hey," I say, nudging his boot with my toe. I watch as he opens his eyes blearily, squinting as he looks up at me. "Class is over."

"Oh…" he trails, yawning loudly before standing up. The teacher makes a disapproving noise, and both of us glance at her for a moment. "Yeah, thanks…um…"

"Mark," I reply, tapping my hand nervously on the strap to my bag that runs over my shoulder and down my chest and stomach. His voice is lighter than I would have imagined, not deep at all, and it's got a rougher edge to it from having just woken up.

"Mark," he repeats, smiling broadly and sticking his hand out for me to shake. "I'm Roger." I smile back and briefly shake his warm, callused hand before letting go. "Right, well…thanks again. See you tomorrow," he says, turning his back on me and shoving his hands deeply into his pockets, his boots sounding heavily on the floor.

"See you…" I trail, watching his retreating form interestedly.

"You're Cindy Cohen's little brother, aren't you?" I sigh as I turn around to face Ms. Frasier, knowing that it was dumb of me to think that I could escape answering this question for much longer.

"Yeah," is all I offer, nodding my head for a moment as she looks at me quizzically.

"Oh, how's she doing at college? What college is she at?"

"She's at Syracuse, and she's having a nice enough time, I suppose." I can't really answer this, as I honestly don't know. The last time I talked to Cindy was right before she left, sharing a brief and awkward goodbye with my only sibling.

"Oh, well, isn't that nice? What's she majoring in?" I resist rolling my eyes. How the hell should I know?

"I think she's still doing choir stuff," I pause when Ms. Frasier makes a satisfied sound, "but other than that, I'm not really sure."

"That's good," she coos, and I can't help but compare her to a dove. Gray hair tied loosely into a bun, some stray strands of hair sticking out of the back and making it look like her bun exploded, or something. The way her eyes squint when she smiles, how she peers down at me…it's enough to send a chill down my spine. "Well, you tell her I said 'hi', alright?"

"Yeah, sure," I say quickly, already knowing that I have yet to say 'hi' to Cindy for Mr. Saberin, Mrs. Redding, Mrs. Fisky, and Ms. Pollsnik. I guess being the little brother automatically means I get to play the role of messenger.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mark," she says kindly, turning around to flip through a few loose sheets of paper on her desk.

"Yeah, see ya," I reply before hurrying out of her room, clutching the strap to my bag tightly. Gah, I hate it when they corner you like that…

"Mph!" I run smack into someone, and I blush furiously as I look up to apologize. "Oh…sorry, Roger," I say, taking a few quick steps back away from him.

"You're Cindy's brother?" he asks, his eyes wide. I guess he overheard…

"Yeah, and no, I'm not going to say 'hi' to her for you," I say curtly, wondering why I'm being so rude to the kid I just introduced myself to a few minutes ago. Usually I'm not so terse with people…I guess it's because I'm so goddamn hungry and people keep on stopping me on my way to lunch.

To my surprise, the other boy laughs quietly under his breath.

"Nah, I hated Cindy," he replies bluntly, and I have to stop myself from laughing.

"Thanks," I say sarcastically, feeling his hand clap me on the shoulder a few times.

"Mm, welcome, anyway…" he continues, and I wonder if he's just ignoring me or being completely oblivious, "I remember. I thought I remembered you from somewhere, and now I do." I raise an eyebrow at him, knowing that I haven't been in any of his classes previously.

"Yeah? I don't remember you."

"No, I do. I remember you, you were the kid who spilled soda on me last year during lunch." I duck my head and try to hide the blush that I'm sure is making its way onto my face. Oh, yeah…

"Oh…" I laugh nervously, gripping the strap to my bag tightly, "yeah. Sorry about that…"

"Nah, it's cool. It just bugged me that I couldn't place you." He shrugs loosely, and I stare at his giant black boots, noticing the thick, bright red shoelaces.

"Yeah, I was sort of spastic freshman year," I apologize again, this time glancing up to see a smirk on his face.

"I think we all are. Anyway, I'm headin' out to lunch. Wanna catch a ride?" he offers, but I quickly shake my head.

"Nah, that's alright. I've got a lunch in my locker, and I sort of promised someone I'd meet them." I'm lying, but I already feel sort of nervous around Roger. Maybe it's just memories from spilling that soda all over him, but I'd rather spend lunch alone than cooped up in a small car, feeling awkward and dumb around him.

"Whatever," he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "Later."

I watch as he walks away from me, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a lighter before shoving it back in.

I sigh and make my way to my locker, dialing the long since remembered com before reaching in and grabbing my paper sack filled with a sandwich, an apple and a bottle of juice.

It's going to be a long year.

* * *

"Mark Cohen?" I raise my hand for the substitute teacher, hearing her call off Roger's name next. Why she doesn't just check the seating chart is beyond me, but I guess since she's wasting class time I really can't complain. 

"Alright, Ms. Frasier went home feeling sick earlier this morning, and all she left in the instructions is to do a few rhythm exercises, otherwise you've got a free hour." The disgruntled noises and frustrated sighs are soon replaced by cheers upon hearing the rest of the instructions.

Rhythm exercises _again_? It's the third week of school! She said we wouldn't have to do anymore. Somewhere in the back of my head I think Ms. Frasier did this just to get back at me for never saying 'hi' to Cindy for her.

Okay, well…I guess I'll just have to fake clap some more.

The first few rhythms fly by easily enough, me brining my hands closely together so that it looks like I'm clapping, but also so that my palms don't touch and make the noise.

It isn't until the fourth rhythm do I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I glance over to see Roger watching me, his green eyes fixed on my hands as a slight smirk plays about his lips. I mentally groan, wondering why, of all people, it has to be _him_ to find me out.

Roger and I are, I guess what you could call 'friends' now, although really it's more like Roger attempting to talk and be friendly with me while all I can do is stumble over my words and pick nervously at the strap to my bag whenever I try to talk to him. I don't know why, but I'm always nervous as hell when I'm around Roger.

"Thank you, class," the young, chubby substitute says, smiling at us, "That's all Ms. Frasier had planned for today. The rest of the hour you may have, but stay in the room and don't get too out of control!"

The substitute's last words are drowned out as everyone begins to move at once, the popular girls and guys sliding their chairs across the floor to sit off to the side of the room, chatting, giggling, and flirting like happy, dull witted chipmunks. The less cool kids stick to themselves, three or four guys with bad haircuts and five or so girls with even worse skin. They talk quietly among themselves, quietly scoffing at the popular people while secretly wishing they were them. And then there are just the 'kids', those who get along with everyone and float from group to group, liked by everyone but fitting in nowhere. The one loner sits by herself reading a book. I have half a mind to go and talk to her when I hear someone clap sharply, twice in my ear.

"So…how long've you been going incognito with the rest of us clappers?" Roger asks, grinning down at me when I scowl at him.

"You're an ass," I reply, hearing Roger chuckle underneath his breath.

"I see Marky has a tongue today," he continues, his grin widening when he sees me blush and duck my head.

"Shut up…" I mumble half heartedly, feeling him ruffle my hair. I quickly push his hand away from me and glare at him as I smooth my hair back down. Roger calling me 'Marky' and ruffling my hair are some things he picked up in our three weeks as 'friends'.

"Anyway, we should totally get outta here. Go to lunch early," he suggests, and I glance worriedly at the teacher only to see her in conversation with the loner. "You wanna come with me?" Why is he so goddamn persistent in getting me to go out to lunch with him?

"Um, I think the sub said that we have to stay here…"

"Do you always do what your mommy tells you to?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I shrug, looking up when I hear him laugh.

"Well, come on. Bend the rules a little. I promise you won't spill your soda on me this time," he adds, smirking as I glare at him through my blush.

"Okay, fine," I sigh, standing up and lifting my bag over my shoulder.

"Excellent," Roger says, his eyes shining excitedly as he turns to casually stroll towards the door.

I glance nervously over my shoulder one last time before following him, watching as he tosses something in the garbage can before turning around and pressing his back against the door.

I shift my weight from foot to foot, not knowing what to do next before I feel Roger's hand grab mine as he quickly opens the door and slides us both out into the hallway. A quick glance through the window shows the substitute's back turned towards us as she reads a piece of paper that she had picked up from the desk.

"Nice," I say, my heart thudding heavily in my chest, though whether it's from our possibly getting into trouble or the fact that Roger is still holding onto my hand, I can't tell.

"Thanks," he grins, letting me go and shoving his hands in his pockets before heading down the hallway. "Where do you wanna eat?" he asks, and I quickly jog to catch up with him.

"I dunno," I shrug, not really feeling all that hungry anymore, "Wherever you want is fine."

Roger chuckles and shakes his head, his boots hitting the floor heavily, and I start to get nervous, wondering if maybe we'll get caught. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…

"Alright, well, we'll just drive around until we find something that looks good," he offers, veering off to the left and quickly opening his locker, not even bothering with a com as he probably leaves it unlocked all the time.

"Holy shit! You're in advanced Bio?" I ask, catching a glimpse of his textbooks that are stacked haphazardly on the small shelf.

"Well…yeah," he shrugs, pulling out a large, tattered leather jacket.

"I hear Mr. Cam's evil," I say, impressed that Roger's even taking advanced Biology. He doesn't look like the type of kid who'd care about grades or school or any of that.

"Yeah, he can be a bitch, but most of the time he's pretty cool. He's sort of crazy," Roger laughs, slamming his locker shut after putting his jacket on. "Lead the way," he says, and I start walking down the hallway towards my locker, realizing that his isn't too far from mine.

"What other classes are you in?" I ask, suddenly interested.

"Eh, algebra 2, government, psych, western lit and choir," he says, and I nod. All higher level classes.

"Only six hours?"

"Nah, advanced bio's a two hour block."

"Oh yeah…" I remember, turning the dial on the lock to the correct numbers before opening my locker and grabbing my own jacket.

"What about you?" he asks as we make our way out of the building, heading towards the student parking lot.

"American lit, U.S. history, choir, geometry, chemistry, speech and Spanish." I shrug, knowing that they're all expected courses, much like his were. Nothing special, just to get credit.

"Oh yeah? What year Spanish?"

"Three."

"Say something," he grins, and I sigh.

"No," I reply, smirking when I see him frown.

"Why not?" he asks, squinting his eyes into the sun as we continue down the parking lot.

"Because… Jesus, how far back did you park?" I try to change the subject, trying to see if I can guess which car is his before we get there.

"I was a little late this morning," he grins at me, and I see something catch his eye as he looks away from me and over to my left.

I glance over to see a girl walking by, wearing tight jeans and clutching a jacket closely around her shoulders, obviously hurrying to get back to school. Or to get to school…maybe she never went this morning.

I've seen the girl before, in the hallways, and every time I do I always think of a whore. Maybe it's the way she dresses, or how her eyes are always ringed in dark, thick eyeliner, or that she has large, dark circles from lack of sleep that she tries to cover up with make-up, but I dunno. I say as much to Roger, watching as he turns to regard me strangely.

"Mark, that's my girlfriend," he says, his eyes narrowing at me. I feel my heartbeat increase and I subconsciously reach for the strap to my bag, gripping it tightly as I glance down and away from Roger.

"…really?" I ask, my voice sounding small and pathetic as I force the sound to come out of my throat. Shit, shit shit…this is why I always stay quiet. Why couldn't I have stayed quiet?

"Nah, not really, but she gives great head." My head snaps up to see Roger grinning, and I scowl at him as he starts to laugh at me. "Shit, you should've seen the look on your face," he laughs, reaching out to lean against an old, beat up car.

"Is this your car?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as he nods his head enthusiastically.

"Yeah! Doesn't she kick ass?"

"She?"

"Yeah…" he shrugs, and I shake my head slowly. I watch him unlock the door before he hops in and I move to the passenger side as he leans over the two seats to unlock my door. I can't even tell what color it is… Whatever color rust is, I suppose.

I sit down lightly on the passenger seat, sinking into the ancient cushions as my feet step on papers that are scattered all over the car. Empty soda cans litter the floor as well, and I can't help but wonder when the last time he cleaned his car was.

"Alright, let's get going," he says, turning the key a few times before the car roars into life. He puts it in reverse and backs out of his parking space, glancing over his shoulder for only a moment before putting it in drive, quickly speeding down the parking lot.

The car jerks, and I hastily throw on my seat belt.

"I think you just ran over a small child," I comment dryly, hearing Roger snort.

"Ten points," he says, giving me a cheeky grin before focusing back on the road.

"…you're sick," I reply, smiling wryly as he laughs.

He turns left, and slowly I relax, deciding that maybe this doesn't have to be so bad.

The sun shines brightly through the window, and I press myself farther into the car seat to escape the bright glare. The car quickly starts to warm up as Roger turns on the heater to get rid of the cold, autumnal air, and I feel my breathing slow as I start to drift off to sleep.

"Holy shit I haven't heard this song in forever!" Roger exclaims suddenly, and I jump slightly as he turns the volume up, hearing a piano playing quietly before the unmistakable voice of Morrissey accompanies it.

I settle back and am a little surprised to hear Roger's voice as he sings quietly along with the song, his eyes focused on the road. I haven't ever actually heard Roger sing before, since whenever we do sing in choir it's in a group and I know the other boy tends to sing more quietly, since it's so early in the morning. His voice is good, though…_really_ good. The rough, untrained voice is hushed, softened as he sings lightly under his breath, and I concentrate solely on how it mixes nicely with the piano, subconsciously tuning out Morrissey so that I can hear Roger better.

Christ…

Suddenly my heart is racing in my chest as I take in the way his lips are parted, his long, slender fingers curved around the steering wheel, his soft voice filling my head and leaving me wide eyed. Shit…

Now I know why I'm so nervous around the other boy…

"You sing really well," I compliment once his voice falls silent, once he's noticed me staring raptly at him.

"Mm, I'm not lead singer in the band because I play a mean fiddle."

"…what?"

"…never mind."

"No, you're in a band?" I ask, chuckling lightly as I notice with some interest his cheeks redden slightly at my compliment.

"Yeah…" he says slowly, turning his head to glance at me quickly, "You mean you didn't know?"

"No…" I trail, sitting up in my seat, "Where the hell are we going?"

"Oh, shit. I don't know. I wasn't really paying attention…"

Roger turns into a parking lot and puts the car into park, casting a sideways glance at me before yawning slightly.

"So…where to?" he asks, and I feel the air become heavy and awkward.

"I don't care…I'm not really that hungry," I confess, seeing him nod his head.

"Yeah, me neither," he says, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

We sit in silence for a moment, me gripping the strap to my backpack and Roger gripping the steering wheel and staring into the lines of traffic.

"Listen, Mark…" "Hey, Roger…" we say at the same time, both of us turning to look at the other. Our eyes connect for a brief moment, and I feel my face getting hot as I stare into his bright green eyes.

Oh, God he's gorgeous…

"Y…yeah?" he asks shakily, and I blink a few times before I realize he's prompting me to continue.

"No, no…that's alright, you can go first," I offer, seeing him narrow his eyes at me.

"Um…it…it really wasn't anything…" I watch as he pauses to take a deep, steadying breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening again. "Mark…I think…I…I'm going to….would you mind?" he breathes, and my eyes widen as his hand presses against my cheek, his thumb trailing down to the edge of my mouth.

"Would I mind…what?" I ask nervously, watching as he quickly kills the engine with his other hand before turning sideways.

"If I…did this," he explains, quickly leaning in and brushing his lips against mine. My heart pounds in my ears, my heart racing in my chest as I hastily respond, moving my lips softly over his.

Oh god…I quickly remember to breathe, my breath catching in my throat as I feel his fingers thread through my hair, pressing lightly on the back of my head.

The kiss only lasts for a few seconds, though it seems to last forever, but as soon as he pulls away I find myself wanting him to kiss me again, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips against mine once more. His warm breath spills lightly over my cheek, and I start to move towards him when his voice stops me.

"Mark," he breathes, his hand pressing to where my neck meets my shoulder, his fingers curling underneath my jacket. I suppress a shiver when his callused fingertips touch the side of my neck, my heart still beating wildly in my chest. "Is this okay? Is this what you want?"

"Yes, god yes…" I say without a moment's hesitation, and I see Roger raise an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" he asks, and I know why he does. If we stop now, we can go back, we can still be friends. One kiss can be forgotten, one kiss doesn't have to mean anything.

"Kiss me again and I will be," I smirk, seeing him flush slightly before a smile finds its way onto his face as well.

Roger's lips connect with mine again gently, and I let out a breath I wasn't even aware that I was holding. This kiss is more sure, his mouth pressing against mine firmly before pulling slightly away, the other boy giving me sweet kisses that make my head spin.

"Get over here," I say quietly, my back starting to ache from the awkward position we're kissing in, and I feel myself blush when Roger pulls away to give me a slow, searching look. He leans forward again, unbuckling the seatbelt from around me and pulling it over my head and off of me as he climbs over to my side, the passenger side of the small car.

"Mm, good idea," he whispers, and I feel my chest constrict at the way his voice sounds in my ear, his hot breath washing down the side of my neck.

Roger sits himself in my lap, his knees on the car seat on either side of my legs as he runs his fingers through my hair and kisses me again, and I choke back a moan as his tongue brushes over my lips.

My mouth opens to his, and this time I allow a breathy moan to escape me as he slowly slips his tongue in between my lips.

Oh, _god_…

The way his tongue _moves_ inside of my mouth is enough to send me spinning, and I distantly feel myself push forward, my hands tangling into his bleach blonde hair in an attempt to hold onto something to keep me from falling. Roger's a _really _good kisser, I realize as I feel his tongue skillfully explore my mouth, and that thought drives me further, pushing farther and farther into Roger.

He smirks against my mouth and takes his tongue back into his own, and instead presses a chaste kiss to my lips. I moan softly, _hungrily,_ somewhat frustrated at the lack of _feeling_ as soon as Roger's tongue is no longer in my mouth.

Irritated, I quickly push forward against him, shoving my tongue roughly past his lips and hearing him gasp softly before letting it turn into a moan as I take my turn to explore his mouth, brushing my tongue over teeth and the insides of his cheeks.

Roger pushes me roughly back into the seat, and I hear something creak loudly in my right ear as the other boy rubs his tongue against mine, and I let him lick his way back into my mouth.

Our breathing is heavy as Roger continues to push heavily against me, our chests practically touching as he keeps my hands pinned to the seat on either side of my head.

Suddenly the seat creaks again loudly before snapping, and I feel myself fall back, a muffled yelp escaping me as Roger's mouth is still covering mine.

The head of the chair hits the back seat heavily, and I feel Roger's weight on top of me, my eyes watering as his teeth roughly clip my bottom lip.

"Shit…" I hear the other boy laugh, and I feel his heart pounding in his chest against mine. Whether this is from the surprise of falling or from what we were doing before, I can't say.

I slowly lift my hand from his, unlacing our fingers and reaching up to lightly touch my bottom lip, pulling my fingertips away to check for blood. Nope, but it hurt like hell.

"Are you alright?" Roger asks, pulling his head back in order to see me better. His cheeks are pink, his lips red and wet, his hair tangled, his dark green eyes staring down full of concern into my own.

"Yeah…you bit my lip," I explain when I see him glance at my fingers after having pulled them from my lower lip again.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his hand running through my hair before he kisses me again, continuing our play from before.

Soon enough his tongue is in my mouth again, which is exactly where I want it to be, and his hands are slowly sliding down my sides, his entire body covering mine, his weight pressing down on top of me. And everything feels _right _and _good_ and _perfect_.

Roger takes my bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it, his tongue lavishing it before he gives me another open mouthed kiss, my moans becoming less quiet and coming more easily out of my throat as my mind registers two things. The first one being that lunch is probably over by now. The second one being that both Roger and I are _hard_, his hips pressed against mine as I feverishly try to hold onto the kiss that he is quickly pulling out of.

The other boy's lips are immediately pressing to my neck, and I gasp at the feel of his mouth fluttering over the sensitive skin.

"Roger," I moan, his name tumbling off of my lips and I feel his mouth pause before his tongue flicks out, trailing along the curve of my neck.

"Mark," he whispers, his breath hot in my ear, his voice rough and filled with lust and desire. "What do you want? Tell me what you want." I gasp when he licks my ear before gently nibbling on my earlobe, apparently waiting for an answer.

"I…_God_, Roger," I breathe, throwing my head back only to feel his lips and tongue and teeth move to my neck.

"Do you want…this?" he asks, rolling his hips against mine, and I moan loudly, my fingers clutching his shoulder tightly.

"Yes, please, _god_ yes…" I mumble, feeling him smirk against my neck before grinding into me again, our moans mixing this time as Roger's fingers grip tightly to my waist.

My eyes snap open when I hear something knock at the car door, and I absentmindedly try to pull Roger over me like a blanket or something as soon as I see the middle aged man standing outside the window, his back turned towards us.

"Roger," I whisper, pulling his face out of my neck and directing his line of vision towards the rotund man outside.

"…the fuck?" he growls, and the man outside turns around, glaring down at us as Roger reaches behind him to roll the window down. "What?" Roger snaps, not bothering to move off of me but leaning his elbow on the back of the seat next to my head, letting his head rest against the heel of his palm.

"You're going to have to leave," the man says, running nervous fingers over his long moustache.

"What? Why? It's a free goddamn parking lot," Roger growls, and I grip the bottom of his jacket tightly.

"No, it's for paying customers only. You're going to have to leave." I look past Roger to see a bright sign advertising for a barber shop before looking back to the mustached man.

Roger glares at him for a moment before reaching back to roll the window up again, ignoring the man's startled protests as he firmly presses his mouth against mine again.

"Roger," I say quietly, pulling back after the man storms off into the barber shop. "I think we should go."

"No, I intend to finish this, and then we can go," he mumbles, and I sigh heavily.

"He said something about calling the cops."

"…no shit?"

"No shit." Roger groans and leans his forehead against my shoulder, and I feel the same frustration he does.

The other boy slowly climbs off of me, holding my gaze for a moment before sitting himself back into the driver's seat. I sit up, the now broken passenger seat offering no support for my back.

Roger starts the engine and, after a moment of sitting, pulls out of the parking lot, turning in the opposite direction, away from school.

"Where are we going?" Roger grins and looks over at me before taking my hand in his and squeezing gently.

"We're going to see what else these hands of yours can do, besides clap out of rhythm," he replies suggestively, and I blush, diverting my eyes to the road.

Sounds good to me.

* * *

**AN: **Review with a happy birthday wish to Katie! Sing it with me now...happy birthday to Katie! Happy birthday to Katie! XD  



	2. Come In and Play

**AN:** Hey! So, long story short, I got my lazy ass around and wrote the second chapter. Go me!

**courtney:** :D Hee hee, well! I did make it a two-shot. XD Hope you like!

**A.:** You're welcome, and I'm glad you liked it. But I'm not quite done yet...hee. I hope you like this chapter. :-D

And I believe this has become a full fledged story. Meaning there will be even MORE...yeah. Stay tuned! Hee, thank Katie for getting this crazy story in my head to begin with. Salt, you say? XD

**WARNING: **Lotsasmutlotsasmutlostasmutlotsasmut. 6 pages on microsoft word, I believe. NC-17. Kay? Kay. Love to you all!

* * *

Roger pulls sharply into a short driveway that leads to a small, light blue house. I take a moment to look at his house, noting the small flowerbed that, in the springtime, I'm sure will be filled with bright, colorful flowers. Now all of the flowers are dead, and the grass is dying too, the only color coming from the bright orange and red leaves of the large oak tree standing in the front yard. 

Roger's house is in the older part of town, the houses being cheaper and more run down than the rich, upper-class part of town my family owns a house in. I wouldn't say that Roger is poor, no, the very fact that he lives in Scarsdale negates that, but his family is probably not as well off as my own.

I feel Roger trace his fingers over the palm of my hand, and I blush as I look over to meet his gaze. My heart starts to beat quickly in my chest again as Roger leans across the small distance between our two seats to give me a deep, open mouthed kiss; almost like he's reminding me why we're here. Like I could even begin to forget.

"Home sweet home," he murmurs, running his thumb down the side of my face before pecking me lightly on the lips.

My heart never has a chance to slow down as we both climb out of the car, my mind drowning in thoughts of Roger, of Roger and I, of what we're going to be doing within the next few minutes, of me on my back with Roger on top of me, his callused fingers running over my skin…

Better stop while we're ahead.

I feel Roger take my hand in his as he pulls me along behind him, blood pounding heavily through my veins as the other boy quickly unlocks the door to his house and opens it. I'm confused for only a moment as Roger drops my hand, but I smile when I see him crouch down to the floor where an old, fat, lazy brown dog is lying, it's pathetically sad eyes gazing up at me from the floor.

"Hey, Ches," Roger says in a light voice, rubbing the large animal behind the ears.

"You have a dog?" I ask, also bending over to inspect the sad animal.

"No, Mark. This is my cat," Roger mocks, rolling his eyes before grinning, his eyes shining.

"What's his name?" I ask, ignoring the other boy until I feel his hand press itself to the small of my back, where it rests gently rubbing small, calming circles.

"Chester, and she's a girl." I quirk an eyebrow when I hear this, unable to contain my amusement as a sly smile slips onto my face.

"Chester's a boy's name," I point out, hearing Roger sigh heavily. I take it he's had to explain the origin of his dog's name to more than a few people.

"I know," he says, sitting down fully onto the floor and pushing the door shut behind him before leaning his back against it, "I found her when I was in 2nd grade, on my way home from school." Roger pauses in his story for only a moment, just long enough to pull me back into him so that I'm sitting between his legs on the floor, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist. "My best friend at the time was moving to Wisconsin. His name was Chester. On the first day after Chester moved, I was walking home and suddenly this huge dog just came out of nowhere and started licking my face. I was eating a lollipop." I snort upon hearing the unnecessary detail, but Roger continues, "I called her Chester, after my friend who had just moved. I didn't know she was a girl at the time, but when I took her home and my mom decided we could keep her the name just sort of stuck. Isn't that right, Ches?" Roger asks the dog, and I watch as she lifts her massive head to stare at him with tired eyes, her tail wagging slowly.

She moves to lay her head across my thigh, and I hear Roger chuckle before placing his hand on top of her head.

"She likes you," Roger says softly into my ear, and I try to relax as the dog starts to lick my hand, her soft tongue gliding over my fingertips.

"She's a pretty cool dog," I admit, watching as Chester rolls back over onto her side, sighing heavily once she's situated.

A few moments pass in silence as my mind works overtime to sort through my emotions. Roger's hand finds its way onto my thigh and I quickly lace our fingers together, feeling him squeeze lightly.

"Want something to drink? I'm thirsty," he asks, breaking the small, heavy silence that had fallen over us.

"Sure…" I trail, wanting as much time as possible to stall and try to figure out what to do.

I stand up from the floor, letting go of Roger's hand as he moves to do the same. Chester lifts her head to look at us for a moment before rolling back over, promptly going back to sleep.

Roger laces his fingers with mine again once he's stood up, and my heart begins to pump faster, color rising in my cheeks at the contact.

Shit, I've gotta calm down. If I'm _this_ nervous just holding his hand, what the hell am I going to do when he…when we…

It's not that I've never had sex before. I did…once. But that was sort of rushed, seeing as it was with Nanette at somebody's bar mitzvah. Someone had "accidentally" given her alcohol instead of that sparkling, sugary punch shit. I don't like to think about that as being my first time. It was pretty bad.

Plus, this is with another _boy_. I wonder if Roger is nervous, too. I wonder if he has ever been with another guy before…

I trip over something as we make our way to the kitchen through the living room, said object squeaking loudly, making me jump.

"Whoops," I mutter when I see the baby toy before I look around and notice a crib, playpen, and a lot more toys inside of the playpen.

Roger chuckles and picks up the toy before throwing it into the playpen with the rest, running his thumb over the back of my hand.

"I didn't know you had a little brother or sister…" I trail, trying to imagine the boy in front of me cradling an infant in his arms. It doesn't work too well.

"I don't," he shrugs, unlacing our fingers to grab a couple of glasses from the cupboard above his head, "I…well, I do, but he's my half brother. He lives with my dad."

"Oh," I say, raising an eyebrow, "then what's with all the baby stuff?"

"My mom runs a daycare," Roger explains, holding out a glass of water to me. I reach for it and drink thirstily, not realizing how thirsty I was before. "She's a social worker, so the pay isn't that great, but for the days she doesn't work she runs the daycare. You'd be surprised how much Scarsdale moms are willing to pay to keep their children out of their hair while they go shopping or play tennis or what the hell ever."

"That's terrible, Roger," I muse, squinting my eyes slightly.

"But it's true," he laughs, setting his glass down, "In any case, mom's really good with kids and they all love her." I nod my head, my mind lost again as I think about how good looking Roger is. He's fucking _gorgeous_…how come he wants to be with _me_, of all people? I'm sure he could have any girl he wanted, any other guy…so how did I get so lucky?

I'm immediately snapped out of my thoughts when I notice Roger staring at me over the rim of his glass. I swallow thickly and try not to fidget under those intense, green eyes but I quickly realize that I'm failing miserably.

Roger smiles suddenly, his cheeks looking brighter than normal.

Roger Davis blushing just from _looking_ at me? I thought I was the only one who has that problem every time I look at _him_.

"Come here," Roger says, setting his glass down and taking my hand again, this time leading me back into the living room before opening another door. I find myself staring into the darkness of a staircase, the steps leading forever down into the gloom.

"Where are we going?" I ask as Roger snaps on a light switch, the staircase suddenly bathed in light.

"My room," he replies, not looking back at me as he takes a few steps down.

"Oh…" I manage to say, my entire upbringing screaming at me to stop now.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I'm not gonna force you into anything, Mark," Roger says, glancing back at me for a moment before turning to the left.

"Okay," I breathe a little shakily, still feeling nervous.

"Besides," Roger continues, opening the door to his room, "We don't have to have _sex_, if you don't want to. We could always just make out in bed or something." Roger grins as a blush creeps up over my face at how bluntly and openly he talked about what was on his mind.

"W…well," I say, trying to be more open with Roger like he is with me, "have you ever actually…"

"Had sex?" Roger finishes for me, raising an eyebrow, "Of course I…oh. God, Mark are you still a virgin?"

"No!" I yell, a little too loudly. Roger looks at me skeptically. "No, and that's not what I was going to ask, either."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, and at first I think he's joking but when I meet his gaze I find no amusement lighting his face. I inwardly groan at how quickly I'm falling for Roger.

"I was gonna ask if you've ever been with another guy before," I state, almost indignantly.

"Well…sure," Roger replies, shrugging loosely. "That is, of course, if you mean have I ever had _sex_ with another guy. Have I ever 'been with', like dated, another guy, then no. You're the…" Roger trails off, his eyes widening slightly.

"I'm the…" I prompt, trying not to grin stupidly.

"Jesus, I really fucked that up, huh? Mark, I forgot to ask you something…Do you want to go out with me?" Roger looks slightly hopeful, and I feel myself falling as I begin to ache for his touch.

"I was hoping you would ask, seeing as I already made out with you in the back seat of your car."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. And it was the front seat," he corrects me, leaning forward and kissing me tentatively on the cheek.

I take the lull in the conversation as an opportunity to look around his room, noting the albums stacked in the corner with a record player sitting close by. Band posters line his walls, some of the things taped there being newspaper clippings, articles, and a few photographs of who I take to be his family. A guitar rests in the corner, the lightly colored wood reflecting the dim lighting of Roger's room. Another guitar sits near his dresser, but it's packed away in a hard, plastic case that's filled with stickers, most of them bumper stickers.

My gaze falls back to Roger standing in front of me as he watches my perusal of his room, and I smile softly.

"You play the guitar?" I ask, just to keep the conversation going, if anything else. To fill up the heavy silences with light words.

"Yeah…didn't you know? I'm in a band," the other boy replies, reaching forward to wrap his arms loosely around my waist, pulling me into him as his impatient fingers start to tap lightly on my back.

"Oh…" I trail, something tugging at the back of my mind, wanting to be recognized, "Wait. You're _that_ Roger?" Suddenly the memory digs itself loose and works its way to the front of my mind, making me bury my face in Roger's shoulder as laughter overtakes me.

"What?" I hear Roger ask, his fingers gripping my hips as I attempt to stifle my laughter. Instead my deep breaths only succeed to take in Roger's scent, and I turn my head to press my face to the side of his neck, smelling his shampoo and whatever cologne he uses. Roger smells _good_, and I wrap my arms around his waist as the calming scents wash over me.

"Mark?" Roger tries again, his voice sounding choked as I nuzzle into the side of his neck, and I take one last breath before letting it out in a sigh.

I pull back to see the other boy's slightly-redder-than-before face, his wide eyes shining.

"Sorry," I apologize, noticing the way Roger's chest rises and falls with quick, shallow breaths, "but I just remembered…you know how you said you hated Cindy?"

"Still do," he grins, and I can't help but smile back.

"I remembered how my freshman year, when she was a senior, she asked me what I thought of a certain Roger who played in a band…"

"Mute?"

"That's it! And when I told her I didn't know who you were, she got a little annoyed. I think she might've, you know, liked you." I grin at Roger's reaction, his eyebrow raised as he works through what I've just told him.

"But…she was a senior. I was a sophomore… That's kind of funny," he smirks, and I nod my head.

"I thought so. I don't think she knew you were two years younger than she was. I think she thought you were a junior." I press my fingers to the small of Roger's back, indecision floating over my head. "She acted like she was two seconds away from hiring me as a professional stalker to take pictures of you for her."

"Pictures?" the other boy asks, and I look up to meet his gaze.

"Yeah…it's sort of a hobby," I say, seeing him nod his head. "Shit! I left my stuff in your car. My camera was in my bag… I should probably go and get it…"

"Nah, it'll be fine," Roger says reassuringly, although I know it's just to keep me here, "I locked the doors. Nobody's going to take it."

"…okay…" My voice sounds small and nervous, and I realize that it isn't because I _don't_ want to have sex with Roger. I'm not nervous because I don't want to…I'm just nervous because…

Maybe that's it. Maybe I'm nervous _because_ I don't want to. Shouldn't I have even just a _little_ aversion to sleeping with another boy? Or have I been gay all along?

Is Roger gay?

"You should show me some of your pictures, sometime," he suggests, and I smile and nod my head.

"Sure, if you want to." Roger kisses my cheek before letting me go and sitting lightly on the edge of his bed.

"Of course I do," he replies, and I feel myself blush. I watch as Roger stretches out on his bed, clasping his hands behind his head and I realize how much I want him. Christ, why does this have to be so difficult?

"Roger?" I say, tentatively moving across the room to stand next to his bed.

"Hm?" he responds, encouraging me to continue.

"…are you gay?" I ask, watching as his eyes snap open to look at me. I blush furiously when he laughs softly under his breath, unclasping his hands from behind his head and using his elbows to prop himself up.

"Good question," he says in answer to my question, grinning at the confusion on my face. "I don't know, I guess I'm 'bisexual', or whatever. I just don't like to put restrictions on my feelings. If I'm attracted to someone what should it matter if they're a boy or a girl, you know? Why should I hold myself back just because it's another boy? No time like the present…" I see Roger shoot me a meaningful look before he lays back and closes his eyes again, an open expression on his face.

I feel my heart race in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I climb onto Roger's bed, straddling the other boy's waist and keeping a slight distance between us.

No time like the present is what Roger had said. I hope he's right.

I lean down and gently touch my lips to his, unsure of how to continue, but sigh gratefully as Roger takes over, his hand pressing onto the back of my neck as he pulls me in for a deeper kiss.

"Roger?" I whisper against his mouth, feeling his lips move softly over mine.

"Yeah?" he whispers back, pulling me down so that I'm lying on top of him, my body stretched over his.

"Are we…." I have to pause as Roger presses our lips firmly together, making speech impossible until he pulls slightly away, "really going to do this?" My lips brush over his with every word, and I can tell it's driving him insane, but it makes him pause at the slightly nervous tone in my voice.

"Do you want to?" he asks, his hands running down my sides, his fingers playing with the bottom of my t-shirt.

"Yes, but…I mean, it's just…" I take a deep breath, hoping that it will somehow help me start making sense. "I've never really…been with…another guy before."

Roger looks at me, his dark eyes hooded, and he holds me with that gaze for a moment, long enough for me to see the barely contained lust sparkling in the dark green. It sends a shiver down my spine, thinking how fucking _irresistible_ he looks like this.

"We'll go slow," Roger replies after a long moment, and I swallow back a whimper at the sound of his voice.

I nod my head and Roger slowly presses his lips to mine, gently pushing himself up and wrapping his arm around my waist as he moves on top of me, my back hitting the comfortable mattress lightly.

Our kisses remain chaste, lips against lips as we slowly fall into an easy rhythm for both of us, my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes shut as I feel Roger's hands tentatively start to roam over my body.

"Mark," he breathes after a few moments, kissing me lightly on the cheek as he pulls away. I feel his fingers trail underneath my shirt, dancing around the waistline of my jeans and I choke on a moan at the feeling of his callused fingertips rubbing up and down my sides. "Is this okay?" he asks, dragging his fingers across my stomach.

"Yes," I gasp, wanting more, wanting to _feel more_ as I grab his hands and pull them up, running them over my skin, underneath my shirt. I throw my head back as Roger takes control of his hands again, his mouth finding mine as he gently begins to remove my shirt, sliding it up over my pale skin until he has to break our kiss in order to pull it over my head.

I sit up, forcing Roger to sit back on his heels, to make it easier for the other boy to get my shirt off. It only now hits me, as Roger pushes me down onto the bed again, the feel of Roger's shirt against the bare skin of my chest and stomach, that we're actually going to do this.

I moan softly as Roger presses our lips together again, feeling his tongue brush over my lips, asking for my permission to continue further. I open my mouth to his, his tongue slowly slipping in between my lips, sliding over my bottom teeth as he allows only the tip of his tongue into my mouth.

I know Roger said we'd take it slow, but this is fucking _torture_. God, it feels so _good_ and I just want _more_…more of this tightness in my stomach, more of Roger's skin against mine, more of Roger's tongue in my mouth, more of_ fucking_ _Roger._

"Roger," I breathe, feeling Roger's hot breath on my cheek as he pants heavily. My fingers slide underneath his shirt, finally making contact with the soft skin underneath, hearing Roger inhale sharply. "Take off your shirt," I say quietly, suddenly feeling exposed next to Roger, who is still fully clothed. I notice Roger's breath catch at my request, but he quickly recovers and looks at me for a moment.

"Can you see without your glasses?" he asks, making me pause.

"…what?" is the only thing I can think of, my mind working to try and figure out how we got on the subject of my vision. And in the middle of what we're doing, too.

"Your glasses. Can you see without them," he says more slowly, his hand running idly up my side.

"Relatively…I guess." Roger smirks and delicately pulls my glasses off, folding them and placing them on a nearby end table.

"Good," he says before leaning back over me, his mouth hovering over my ear. "You want me to take my shirt off?" he whispers into my ear, his lips fluttering over my earlobe and sending a shiver down my spine. I can only manage to nod hastily in reply, noticing that my usually loose fitting jeans are becoming tight. "You take my shirt off," he commands, his voice growling as his hot breath washes over my ear.

I swallow thickly, somewhat uneasy.

"Come on, Mark," Roger says as he sits up, still straddling my waist, "If you want something, get it yourself. I'm not going to do everything for you. Don't be nervous." He bites on his bottom lip for a moment as he looks at me, and I feel frozen under that gaze. "Relax," he breathes, bending over me once again. I feel him take my hands in his, sliding them underneath his t-shirt. "Just let yourself _feel_."

Roger continues to pull my hands up his taut stomach, me letting my fingers trail lightly over his skin. I splay my fingers out, reveling in the feel of his soft skin and strong chest.

Roger's head falls, his forehead leaning against the pillow, next to my head, and I hear his breathing become heavier, more ragged as our fingers trace up his chest. I feel my fingers run over his nipple, my stomach jolting as the other boy moans softly, the noise escaping his lips breathlessly, and I glance over to see his eyes shut tightly.

Oh…_fuck._

I run my hands back down, feeling his stomach muscles tighten underneath my touch, and _God_ do I want to hear him moan again, hear him exhale shakily because of what _I'm_ doing.

I quickly pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor, swallowing back a moan as I stare hungrily at Roger's naked torso, his thin, well muscled chest already damp with sweat.

Roger quickly leans down and kisses me passionately, pulling my bottom lip into his mouth and sucking gently, his presence above me dominating, overpowering. I whimper as he moves to pull away, my body aching to be touched even as Roger keeps the distance between us.

Oh, _God_ I feel like I'm going insane, the pleasure coursing through me starting to become painful, the desire and pure _lust_ I feel for Roger driving me to the edge. This is more intense than anything I've ever felt before, my senses overwhelmed as I'm filled with Roger's scent, as I'm captivated by his eyes, as I feel his fingers brushing over my skin, as I taste cigarettes and mouthwash on his tongue…

I quickly switch positions, hearing Roger make a surprised noise as I flip him onto his back, though it's muffled as I press my tongue past his lips, smirking triumphantly as the other boy opens his mouth against mine. I take my time to explore his mouth, my tongue rubbing and sliding against his as I let my fingers roam over his bare chest and shoulders.

Roger moans deeply in his throat, and I feel that jolt to my stomach again as he grabs my arms and pulls me on top of him, both of us moaning breathily at the feeling of our naked chests and stomachs pressed against one another.

Roger tangles his legs with mine as he licks his way into my mouth, his slick tongue moving against mine in a desperate struggle for dominance. I tilt my head to the side to make it easier for Roger, knowing that the other boy is probably becoming annoyed with his lack of control, and I allow him to fully slide his tongue into my mouth, moaning when I feel Roger's thigh press up against the tightness in my jeans.

_Christ_, I don't know how much more of this I can handle, and we don't even have our goddamned pants off yet…

I rake my fingers through Roger's short, messy, bleach blond hair, loving the way it feels in between my fingers, the short locks damp with sweat as his tongue works inside of my mouth, reminding me how _good_ the other boy is at kissing.

Roger pushes me off of him, keeping our lips locked together as he presses me back into the mattress, pinning my wrists to either sides of my head.

I gasp and throw my head back as Roger's tongue brushes over the side of my neck, the other boy nibbling lightly at the soft skin beneath my ear. I let myself moan softly as he continues down, licking and kissing his way to my collarbone, where he bites at the pale skin there, leaving a mark that I'm sure I will have one hell of a time explaining away.

"Roger…" I pant, feeling him readjust his hold on my wrists as he comes face to face with me again, kissing me on the cheek, the chin, and the corner of my mouth until he presses his lips to mine in a gentle, drawn out kiss that leaves me reeling.

"Mark?" Roger growls, his breath tickling down the side of my neck, sending shivers up and down my spine at the sound of my name said _like that_.

"Wh…when you said we would go slow…" My throat constricts, all thoughts of speech drying up as Roger nuzzles into my neck, his lips fluttering over my skin until he starts to gently nip at my throat. My hands are still pinned to the mattress, unable to bury themselves into his hair and press his mouth fully against my skin to end his teasing.

"Mhmm?" the other boy prompts, brushing his tongue back up the side of my neck.

"Do you think…" I swallow thickly, attempting to pull my wrists out of his grasp but finding that he has them secure, "we could go…faster?"

Roger merely smirks in reply, his eyes glinting mischievously as I let my head fall back into the pillow, letting out a moan of frustration as I realize Roger is doing this because he enjoys seeing me like this, watching me until I'm willing to beg for relief.

"And why," Roger murmurs, the sound of his voice, the feel of his breath washing over my ear sends shivers down my spine, "would we do that?"

"B…because…" I trail, trying not to seem too desperate, even though I already know that Roger has me in the palm of his hand, able to bend me to his will.

"Because…?" he encourages me to continue, even though I've already given up on the conversation. _Fuck_, how am I supposed to form sentences when his lips and teeth and_ tongue_ are keeping me fucking concentrated on him and only him, on his body stretched over mine, on his fingers gripping my wrists tightly…

"_Shit_," I breathe, feeling him release my arms and I immediately grab him and crash our already bruised lips together, our moans mixing as my tongue slides into his mouth.

Roger pushes himself up, his chest rising off of mine as I struggle to hold onto the kiss, wanting desperately to _feel_ more, _needing_ more contact, new sensations, something _different…_

"Sorry, Marky," Roger whispers as he threads his fingers through my hair before letting his hands wander down past my neck and shoulders, to circle lazily around my left nipple as he teases it to hardness, "but I won't go back on my word. We'll go slow…" he pauses and drags his fingers away, moving them back up to my neck as I moan, frustrated and annoyed at Roger's playful attitude, "but it'll be fun." He kisses me roughly on the mouth, a dominating, controlling kiss that leaves no room for argument. "I promise," he whispers, his eyes dark and filled with desire as he slides down, my breathing unstable and heavy as the other boy has managed to leave me writhing and panting by just fucking _talking_ to me.

Roger's mouth is on my neck again as he slowly kisses his way down to my collarbone. I try to relax.

I can handle this. If Roger wants to go slow, then we'll go slow. Like hell am I going to beg for him when he's the one holding us back. And…oh.

_Fuck._

I breathe in heavily when Roger's lips continue pressing down past my collarbone, his body sliding down as he licks and bites at my chest and shoulders, his hands gripping tightly to my waist. Shit…_shit_.

I can handle him kissing my neck …but _this_…

I choke on a moan when I feel the tip of Roger's tongue begin to circle slowly around my right nipple, my fingers digging into the mattress to stop myself from burying my hands into his hair and pressing his hot mouth closer to my chest…so fucking _close_…

"Roger," I gasp, his name escaping my lips subconsciously, and I feel him slide his arms around my waist, behind my back as he presses his tight stomach to my now very obvious erection, a soft moan sounding in his throat as soon as I pant his name.

My fingernails dig roughly into Roger's mattress as the other boy continues to lead me on, dragging me with him as sure as that slick tongue is dragging across my chest. I moan loudly, no longer caring who or _what_ hears me as Roger flicks his tongue over my nipple before letting his teeth close gently around it.

"Christ!" I hiss, my fingers threading through his hair as I press his mouth closer, wanting, _craving_ more of whatever else Roger has to give me. I choke on a moan, my hands still pressing heavily on the back of Roger's head as he licks and bites at the overly sensitive flesh. A fire burns in my stomach, and I feel the flames spreading to my fingertips and toes, my entire body tingling as Roger kisses across my chest to my left nipple, repeating the teasing, the licking, and the biting.

My breaths come in short, uneven gasps, my face flushed, sweat dripping down the side of my neck as Roger climbs back over me, a cocky smirk on his lips.

"Well, Marky…"

"Shut up," I growl, finding that I don't care about whatever Roger has to say. Whatever it is, it can fucking wait.

I cut Roger's smug statement off as I crash our lips together, teeth clicking, tongues sliding against one another in a rough kiss. The other boy is taken by surprise for a moment before he responds, a smirk on his lips until he starts getting into the kiss, his fingers weaving themselves into my hair.

I eagerly press forward, never knowing how much I enjoyed kissing before, seeing as all of my previous girlfriends (all two of them…) never really liked to kiss.

It's not that I'm a bad kisser, I realize with a smirk as Roger moans against my mouth as I slide my tongue delicately between his lips.

I try out what Roger had done to me earlier, pulling his bottom lip into my mouth and gently sucking on it, my tongue lavishing it before I'm rewarded with a deep, throaty moan, the sound reverberating between our chests. I let his lip go, pulling away slightly before leaning in again to lightly nip at his bottom lip, Roger's bright gaze holding mine.

I let my head fall to the pillow, feeling safe and comfortable and warm underneath Roger's weight, drowning in his intense green eyes.

Our heavy breathing is the only sound in the room, the steady rise and fall of our chests the only movement as we lose ourselves in each other's gaze, my fingers trailing lightly up his arm.

I shift a little underneath him, my heartbeat immediately racing when I feel Roger's clothed erection rub against mine, a gasp escaping my lips at the shock of pleasure it sends through me. Roger moans softly under his breath and lets his head fall forward onto the pillow, his hair tickling my cheek. I wrap my arms around his chest and press my lips to his neck, gently holding the other boy as his breathing slows down.

"Mark," he whispers, his voice choked, and I can feel his heart still racing in his chest.

"Mm?" I continue to kiss his neck, feeling Roger shiver slightly in my arms.

"Are you still sure this is what you want?" I pause when I hear the tone of his voice, hinting at another meaning behind his question. 'Are you still sure I'm who you want?'

"Of course I'm sure," is my reply, knowing that it's the truth.

I hear him breathe a relieved sigh, and I reach my hand up to run it through his hair, my fingers massaging gently.

"Are _you_ sure?" I can't help but ask, blushing when Roger gives me a strange look.

"How can you even _ask_ that question?" he replies, quirking an eyebrow.

"I…okay, fine. Why, then?" I want to go into this with no second guesses, no doubts to hold me back.

"Why what?" he asks, before seeing the look on my face, "Why _you_?" I nod my head slowly and Roger groans, frustrated. "Oh, God Mark, I don't know…"

"You don't know?" I repeat, slightly apprehensive.

"No, I mean…I do, but… You want to know why you, why I'm doing this with you and not somebody else?" I don't answer him, but instead let my eyes search his face, looking for some clue as to what the other boy is thinking. "It's because when I first started realizing I was attracted to you, I told myself it would never happen. And if you want to ask the question why am I attracted to you, then fuck…I don't know." He smiles, his fingers easily threading through my hair. "Maybe it's your chin," Roger kisses the side of my jaw, "your cheeks," softly presses kisses to my cheeks, "your nose…" he grins before kissing the tip of my nose, and I blush deeply. "Your lips…" he continues, brushing his lips softly over mine before kissing me harder on the mouth as we share breath, "your neck…" Roger starts to slide back down me, pressing an openmouthed kiss to the curve of my neck.

"Roger…" I murmur, letting my eyes fall shut.

"Your shoulders…"

"Roger."

"Your chest…"

"Roger!" Roger's gaze snaps up to meet mine, and he grins widely.

"Get it?" he asks, coming face to face with me again.

"Yes. Just kiss me," I smirk, seeing him flush slightly before he obeys, his lips connecting with mine.

It only takes us a minute or so to regain our lost time spent talking, our kisses rough once more, teeth, tongue, and lips colliding as we lay together in bed, Roger still on top of me.

Roger's fingers become impatient as he runs them all over my chest and shoulders, his touch ghosting over me, my moans becoming easier and louder as the other boy becomes more needy, his fingers dipping dangerously low, running underneath the waistline of my jeans.

_God_, it still isn't enough…

I press up into Roger, sharply grinding my hips into his as we both moan heavily from the feeling of each other through our jeans. Roger's fingers slide away from where he had been gripping my waist, and I feel his mouth on my neck as his fingers work to unbutton my jeans.

I lift my hips off of the mattress as Roger slides the rest of my clothes off of me, his fingers hooked underneath the waistline of both my boxers and my jeans as he slowly drags them off, letting them fall to the floor. I gasp as my naked skin hits the cool, slick sheets that cover the other boy's bed, but I quickly focus again on Roger as he covers my body with his own.

I watch for a moment as he moves to unbuckle his belt, but quickly lay my hands over his. His confused gaze meets mine, and he quickly pulls his hands away, swallowing thickly when he understands my meaning.

_Let me_.

I finish unbuckling his belt, his jeans instantly becoming loose enough to slide off of him. I take a moment to stare at his lower stomach and hipbones, wanting to remember the way his stomach clenches underneath my touch, the sweat beading on his skin, the rise and fall of his chest…

"Mark," Roger groans, wanting, _needing_ me to hurry up.

I quickly finish, letting my fingers trail down the dusting of hair that leads away from his naval, hearing him moan softly as I unbutton his jeans and help him slide out of the rest of his constricting clothing.

Roger lays back down, his fully naked body covering mine, both of us moaning at the friction created between us. He finally presses his hips into mine, our moans even louder this time as Roger grinds into me and oh _god…_

My fucking _skin_ is too tight…

I capture Roger's lips in a fevered kiss, realizing that this is where nothing makes sense, this is where everything contradicts as I desperately need relief from this agony but _god_ it feels so fucking good, and I never want it to stop…

I distantly become aware of Roger's fingers trailing down over my chest, brushing over my nipples before continuing down, farther, farther…until, _fuck, _he touches _there_, and I moan breathily, pressing my head back into the pillow, my eyes shut tightly.

The other boy immediately begins to kiss my exposed neck, sucking and biting and licking and I feel like I'm going insane as he starts to whisper hotly in my ear.

"Mark," he breathes, licking my ear, "touch me."

I moan at his request, my chest heaving, my head spinning, but I still manage to move my fingers from where they had been digging into the mattress to Roger's chest, slick with sweat as I run my hands over him.

My toes curl into the mattress as Roger strokes and teases me, my breathing becoming irregular and strained as he runs his thumb over the head of me, and I need _more,_ Roger's seemingly calculated movements keeping me aching and writhing from the increasing need gathering between my legs.

My fingers brush down his stomach, the muscles tight underneath his soft skin as I continue down, hearing him moan throatily as I let my fingers slide down the length of his erection.

"Now," he gasps, and I feel his long fingers wrap around me, a whimper slipping past my lips, "with me."

I want to scream as Roger starts to pump in long, steady strokes, but I hastily swallow it back down as I copy Roger, hearing the breath catch in his throat.

"Fuck…" I hear him moan, setting a faster pace as he rushes towards completion, but I'm in no condition to complain. So much for going slow.

"Roger…" I breathe, feeling my skin all over, the sheets twisted and wrinkled beneath us as I whimper quietly in the back of my throat.

Roger let's his head fall back down next to mine, his damp hair pressing against the side of my cheek. He presses kisses to my neck, and I feel my stomach clench as I realize I'm almost there…so fucking _close_…

"Roger, shit, I'm…I'm almost…" The other boy quickly covers my mouth with his, giving me a kiss that neither of us has oxygen for as we both pull away lightheaded, Roger leaning his forehead against mine.

I open my eyes just long enough to see Roger's face, his eyes shut tightly in ecstasy, his lips parted as he breathes heavily, his damp hair mussed up. I clamp my eyes shut again, taking Roger's advice and just letting myself _feel_ in these last few moments of coherency.

My back arches and I moan loudly as I come, my heart pounding in my throat, my ears ringing and I distantly hear Roger say something, but _Christ_ I don't care, because this feels so fucking _good_…

I feel like I'm floating, the only things I'm aware of are satisfaction, contentment, pleasure, bliss, warmth and _god_ I just want to stay up here forever…just stay on this high forever, my blood pounding through my veins as my entire body tingles in exhaustion.

My eyelids droop heavily as I slowly become aware of myself again, of Roger attempting to get control of his breath as he lies on his back next to me.

My heart continues to pound in my chest, warmth still spreading throughout me as I grab a t-shirt off of the floor and clean us off, tossing the soiled article of clothing back to the floor and waiting until Roger comes back to himself.

"Hey," he says, his eyes still hooded as he props himself up on his elbows to look at me, his gaze warm and full of affection.

"H…hey," I reply, hating the nervous feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, "that was…"

"Fucking great? Amazing?" he supplies, lying back onto his mattress, "Yeah. You weren't half bad."

"…thanks…" Roger glances at me before smiling and letting his eyes flutter shut.

"No, seriously. With a little practice…"

"Shut up, Roger," I snap, blushing furiously. Roger opens his eyes and measures me for a moment before sitting up and leaning back against his headboard.

"Aw, come on, Marky. I was only joking. You were good, really fucking good. Better than anyone else I've ever been with."

"Liar."

"…would you just come here, please?" I'm determined to not give in to Roger, but as soon as I see the pleading look on his face I know I never had a choice.

I move to sit lightly next to Roger, jumping when he suddenly wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me as close to him as possible, our bodies pressed tightly together. I turn my head to look at him, shutting my eyes as he kisses me gently on the lips. I move my lips against his, feeling him cup the side of my face before pulling away.

He smiles gently before pecking me on the lips again.


	3. Reach Out

**AN: **I'm back for more! Heh, so yeah. This has soonishly become a full-fledged story. Not a one-shot, not a two-shot, but a ZOMGLOOKATALLTHECHAPTERS-shot. I apologize for the beginning, with the way Mark and Roger got together. If I had known I would be making it longer, I would have taken CONSIDERABLY more time in getting those two boys to smooch. I swears it.

So, yes. Apology for that... Apology number 2.

I know I mentioned in Chapter 1 that Roger was in a band, and then once again in Chapter 2. I...really have no explanation for this. It must have slipped my mind? I should have reread chapter 1 before writing chapter 2, but that week was sort of crazy, so...um... Hopefully you all can forgive my little mistakes, yes? Please?

**A.(who is NOT Abbey...)** : Ha, sorry 'bout that. I mistook you for someone who is not you... Hee, thanks! So glad you liked it. :-D And I hope you like this chapter, as well...

**Nathanslilsis**: Did I reply to you over e-mail? I forget...anyway... Thanks! Glad to know you liked it. :) Hopefully I will continue to please... XD

This story is my fluff outlet. Nothing further must be said.

As always, much love to Jade and Katie, my adorable little Wisconsinite and New Yorker whom I love very much, and would never have written as much as I have without them...

**Disclaimer:** Jonathen Larson's.

* * *

"What the hell is that?" I finally mumble after a few moments of strained listening, trying to figure out what is making the low, muffled noises somewhere else in Roger's house. 

"Chester," he replies, tightening his hold on me, "don't know why the hell she's barking, but whatever."

I sigh and crack my eyes open, realizing that I've lost all sense of time, just lying here in bed with Roger. I think I fell asleep at one point, but it's so comfortable and I feel so lazy and content that I can't say for sure…

"How long have we been here?" I yawn, stretching my arms over my head, Roger shifting to allow me more room.

"Mm, maybe…twenty minutes?"

"Maybe."

I sit up and lean towards the end table, retrieving my glasses and sliding them behind my ears, Roger's room finally emerging from the fuzzy outline it was before.

"Holy shit…" I groan, staring at my watch, almost willing it to be wrong.

"What?" Roger asks, sliding his arms around my waist and pulling himself up to sit behind me, his chin resting on my shoulder.

"It's five o' clock," I sigh, wondering how the hell it got so late so quickly.

"Mm." Roger's breath washes over my ear, and I feel myself blush as the other boy presses his lips to the side of my neck, his mouth fluttering over my skin.

"Roger…" I groan, feeling him nuzzle into the side of my neck, his tongue brushing over my throat making me lean back into him.

"Lie back down," he whispers, his voice low and seductive as he tries to pull me back into bed with him, my resolve crumbling as Roger's warm body presses closely to mine.

"But…it's…my mom's probably freaking out, I should go…"

"Shh, we have time." I allow Roger to pull me back down, my hands immediately falling to either side of my head as the other boy lays me on my back, straddling my waist and leaning closely over me.

"Time for what?" I ask, my chest constricting when Roger flashes me a smile before allowing his fingers to trail down my side.

"A little of this," he whispers before pressing his mouth to mine.

I shut my eyes tightly and snake my arms around to the back of his neck, my fingers pressing our lips closer together. Roger's lips move lightly against mine, his fingers brushing over my neck, and _God_ already my heart is pounding in my throat, my breath coming too quickly as I completely melt into his kiss.

Roger's weight presses down on top of me, my fingers playing with his hair, his hands trailing down my sides to rest at my hips. I allow Roger to slide his tongue in between my lips, loving the feeling that stirs deep in my stomach as soon as our tongues meet, the kiss becoming more passionate as I open my mouth further for him.

Roger moans softly as my tongue slides against his, further encouraging me, letting me know that what I'm doing is right, that it makes _Roger_ feel good. The heady feeling I get whenever the other boy gasps or moans for me is becoming addictive. I doubt I'll ever grow tired of listening to him like this.

I delicately slip my tongue past his and into his mouth, feeling his fingers dig into my hips as he grips my waist tightly, almost like he's trying to keep me here. Like I have any intention of leaving.

Surprising Roger slightly, I place my hands on either one of his shoulders and push him off of me, hearing him catch his breath as now I'm the one straddling him, our kiss breaking as the other boy falls back into the mattress.

I lean down to press our mouths together again when I see him giving me a curious look, and I feel myself blush underneath his gaze.

"I can be top, too, you know," I state, seeing him raise an eyebrow.

"I didn't know you wanted to," he smirks, and I feel my heart racing in my chest as I look down at him, his mussed up hair and his red, wet lips, his cheeks flushed pink, his eyes shining intently as he openly stares right back.

"Oh, _God_ Roger…" I mumble, not even realizing that I said anything until I feel his hand curl around the back of my neck, his cheeks turning even brighter as he smiles shyly.

Roger pulls me into another kiss, allowing me to lead as I thread my fingers through his hair and tip his head up, brushing my tongue over his lips quickly.

I can't help but smirk against his lips when his mouth immediately opens against mine, my confidence growing with his every reaction.

I let my tongue slide slowly into his mouth, my hands brushing down his sides to rest on his lower stomach, in between our bodies which otherwise are pressed flush against each other.

Roger moans suddenly, deep in his throat, hungry and wanting more than what I'm giving him. He pulls out of the kiss only to crash our already bruised lips together again, his tongue slipping into my mouth.

I moan softly when Roger takes my bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it, wondering idly how far Roger is going to go this time, how far he's going to take me…

"Roger, dinner!"

I pull slowly out of the kiss, our lips still pressed together though this kiss is considerably less heated, almost as if my mind hasn't registered that Roger has been called to dinner.

Roger's been called to dinner…

"Shit!" I hiss, quickly moving off of Roger and pressing myself into the space between him and the wall, trying to disappear as I listen to, who I can only assume to be, his mother knock softly on the door.

"Roger? Are you in here?" a gentle voice calls, and I look up to see Roger turned onto his side, his lips quirking up into a smirk as he looks at me.

"Yeah, I'm in here, mom!" he calls over his shoulder before pulling me into him and placing a light, feathery kiss on my cheek.

"Dinner's ready, dear."

"Okay. Mark and I'll be out in a sec." My eyes widen when he mentions me, and he chuckles under his breath.

"Oh, you have a friend over? Have I met him?" Roger's mom asks, and I can't help but smile. That is, until I hear the doorknob rattle. "Roger, why is your door locked?" I sigh heavily, my heart thundering in my chest as the other boy only pulls me closer.

"'Cause Mark and I are studying. I didn't want Chester to bug us." I look up to meet Roger's gaze, his eyebrows raised as he tries to ask me his question without words.

_Is that alright?_

I sigh and nod, relieved that he didn't tell his mom about us. This _is_ only the first day I've been 'going out' with him, after all.

Holy shit. Roger and I have only been together for a day.

Why does it seem like so much longer than that?

"Oh, what are you studying?" his mother persists, and Roger rolls his eyes before grinning wickedly.

"Anatomy…" he trails, his hand slipping underneath my t-shirt as I attempt to stifle my laughter.

"That's nice. Well, I'll let you boys finish up, but be up here within five minutes. Mark, you're welcome to join us for dinner, if it's alright with your parents."

"Thank you, Mrs. Davis," I say loud enough for her to hear before sitting up and looking down at Roger, whose face is a mask of pure excitement.

"So? Do you think you'll be able to stay for dinner?" he asks, sitting up as well and letting one of his legs drape over the side of his bed. I shrug.

"I dunno. My mom's gonna be pissed that I didn't call her to tell her where I am. She might say no." I watch as his face drops, but I quickly lean in and peck him on the lips. "Don't worry. She'll probably let me, if I whine enough."

He grins at the smile on my face and stands up to pull on a pair of jeans.

"Those are mine," I notice, the way the fabric looks more like a second skin than clothing making it difficult not to stare.

"Shit…" he mutters, pulling the jeans off again so that he's only in boxers as he lies down on the floor to look underneath the bed for his.

I don't tell him I'm sitting on his jeans.

I look around his room again, my eyes falling on the corner.

"I think I hear your records crying," I say, my voice sounding completely serious as Roger pokes his head up over the edge of the bed. I can't help but grin at that. How can he be so damn sexy, and yet completely adorable at the same time?

"What?" he asks, his head turning as he looks at his records before he realizes. "Oh. Yeah. David must've been looking through them again…shit."

"Who's David?" I ask, watching as Roger stands up to walk to where his records are stacked. Records aren't supposed to be stacked, since it's bad for them. They're supposed to be standing upright, and I can tell that Roger knows that seeing as he has a couple milk crates, one of them being half full of upright records. The others are just stacked haphazardly on the ground next to the crates.

"My step dad," he replies, putting the records back in order carefully, "I've told him not to mess with my records before, but apparently I didn't get through to him."

"…do you like your step dad?" I ask, seeing as he glances over his shoulder at me.

"Well, yeah. Obviously he's got great taste in music. How could I hate him?"

I smile and watch as he finishes up and moves to sit next to me on the bed. I work his jeans out from under me and hand them to him, smiling innocently as he narrows his eyes at me.

"Asshole," he grumbles, taking them and tossing them to the floor.

I make a muffled yelp as the other boy jumps on top of me, straddling my waist and tickling me, his fingers dancing over my sides as I start to laugh, attempting to get him off of me at the same time.

"R…Roger!" I gasp, my sides starting to hurt as I'm laughing too much.

Roger catches my lips in a slow kiss as soon as he stops tickling me, his palms resting on my lower stomach with his fingers curled loosely around my waist.

The kiss ends with me being even more lightheaded than I thought was possible, my ears ringing as I take deep breaths to help myself calm down.

Roger smiles at me before climbing off of me again, this time standing up and pulling the correct jeans on. He offers his hand to help me stand up, and I take it and allow myself to be pulled up next to him.

"Anyway, you should call your mom," he says after clearing his throat, and I slowly nod my head.

"Yeah…"

I pull my jeans on and follow him out the door, smiling as he reaches back to take my hand.

God, I feel like I'm dreaming…I've _got_ to be dreaming. Everything is going so well, so great, so…_perfect_. Even the thought that sooner or later I'll have to wake up doesn't dampen my spirits as Roger leads me behind him, climbing the stairs and turning to face me as soon as we reach the door to the living room.

I look up at him, confused for a moment, before he kisses me gently on the lips, his hand cupping my cheek, the other arm moving to wrap around my waist.

I let my arms drape loosely around his neck and lean into him, feeling the first twinge of desperation as we both hold onto the kiss for far too long, as we both realize that for as long as we're together most of our relationship will be kept hidden.

We part slowly and Roger leans back in to kiss me again softly for only a moment before giving my hand an encouraging squeeze and opening the door, his fingers slowly slipping from mine.

"What's for dinner, mom?" he asks once we're in the living room, and I look interestedly over Roger's shoulder as I catch my first glimpse of Mrs. Davis as the middle aged woman steps lightly into the living room.

She's wearing a plain, khaki skirt that goes to her knees with a pair of nylons rolled up over her legs. There's an apron tied over a long sleeved, soft green shirt that has beading around the cuffs and neckline. Her hair is a dull, rusty color that I'm sure when she was younger used to be a rich auburn. There are some thick, gray stripes that run from her temple to where her hair is tied up in a loose bun. Her body type isn't thin, or fat, but sturdy, the air she gives off making it seem as if she's been through some hardships, and has survived.

At first glance she seems a little intimidating, so sure of herself and confident, but as soon as she smiles I know there's nothing to be intimidated by in this woman.

"We're having spaghetti, Roger," she says kindly, smoothing out her apron as she walks towards us. "Hello, you must be Mark."

"Hi," I say, stepping out from behind Roger to lightly shake her hand.

"Oh, yeah. Mark, this is my mom. Mom, Mark," Roger says a moment too late, but his mom just smiles and lets it pass.

"Like I said, Mark, you're welcome to stay for dinner. There's plenty to go around."

"Thank you. Let me just call my mom and…"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Roger, show Mark where the phone is. I'm just finishing dinner."

Roger's mom motions for Roger to come closer to her and she pulls him down so that she can kiss him on the cheek, the other boy blushing furiously but keeping himself quiet.

"Just to embarrass him…" she explains, winking at me before turning back to the kitchen. I smirk at Roger, noticing that he's avoiding eye contact as he takes me into a different room.

Now I know why he kisses me on the cheek as often as he does.

"Here ya go," Roger says, leading me into a small room, something like a den, and pointing to a black telephone, the cord on it spiraling all the way to the floor.

I pick up the phone and quickly dial my number, sitting lightly on the edge of the large armchair that's situated near the end table where the phone is resting.

"Hello?" my mother's voice asks, sounding a little too rushed, a little too worried.

"Hey mom," I say, wincing slightly when I hear her relieved sigh.

"Mark, honey, where are you? Are you alright?" she asks, her questions running together almost as if she can't decide which to ask first.

"Yeah, mom I'm fine. Listen, sorry I didn't call you earlier, but…"

"Mark, I can't _believe_ you did this to me. Now, no arguing, because you _know_ that I want you to call if you're ever going to be late home from school. I was worried sick when you didn't show up after four, and I was just about to call the police! I don't want you _ever_ to do that again, do you understand me?" she quips, quickly going off on her rant without me having a say in the matter.

"Yes, mom. I understand," I sigh, hearing Roger snicker next to me. The other boy falls into the chair behind me, his legs draping over the arm of the chair as he slowly traces circles on the small of my back, sending shivers up and down my spine.

"Mark, where are you?" she asks, her voice still sounding concerned.

"I'm at Roger's…"

"Roger who?" she quickly asks, beginning to sound more than worried once again.

"Roger Davis…he's…we're working on a school project together." I wince when I feel Roger stiffen and lay my free hand on his knee, silently asking him to stay quiet until I'm done.

I know my mom would _never_ let me stay at Roger's for dinner, mainly because I didn't call to ask her beforehand and because she's never met Roger before. My mom tends to freak out when I do things that she hasn't already scheduled, or she hasn't already planned for. It ruins her routine.

The only reason I can come up with where she would let me stay at some random boy's house is if I were working on a project. She's always coming up with ways to point out my faults, to try and raise me to Cindy's standards, and my grades are the main one.

It's not like I have _bad_ grades or anything; I'm sure any other parent would be content with a 3.8 GPA. Proud, even.

Though with Cindy having an above 4.0 GPA, it's sort of hard to show my parents that there isn't anything wrong with a 3.8. To them everything is wrong with it.

Why aren't I more like Cindy?

I don't envy or despise her for the way my parents put her on a pedestal and view me only as a disappointment, though I used to. It sort of came to the point where I just didn't want to have to blame my sister for the way things were.

Besides, it wasn't getting me anywhere, anyway.

"Mark, you didn't tell me about this beforehand. What project? You can't just call me, expecting me to forgive you when I thought you had been _killed_ or kidnapped or…"

"Mom! Please, I know. I'm sorry I didn't call, but I really have to get this project done tonight. It's due tomorrow." I close my eyes and picture my mother, her voice caught in her throat as her mouth opens and closes uselessly.

"Mark, why in the world didn't you get this done sooner?" she asks, sounding disappointed in me, though it's not like I expected anything different.

"I…I don't know… I had a million things going on and I just forgot. Why does it matter, anyway? The point is I don't have it done and it's due tomorrow. Roger's helping me out."

"What class is it for?" she continues, her interrogation starting to grate on my nerves.

"Spanish," is my immediate response, having thought of it earlier. I'm in Spanish 3, which is sort of advanced for my grade. I can just see my mom standing in front of my daily schedule, checking it to make sure that I am, in fact, in a Spanish class.

"What grade is Roger in?"

"He's a junior," I sigh, feeling the vibrations of Roger's feet hitting up against the side the chair as he soon becomes bored with the conversation.

"…alright, Mark. Just don't ever do this again. See how difficult this has made everything?"

"Yes, mom," I say, tipping my head back so that it's against the back of the chair. Although it doesn't have to be so Goddamn difficult…

"I want you home by six, do you hear me?" she asks, her voice beginning to annoy me.

"Mom. That gives me twenty minutes, and besides…Roger's mom sort of invited me to dinner and…"

"No, absolutely not. Mark, I don't even know these people. You can't expect me to let you stay for dinner when I haven't even met them…"

"Roger's mom already made extra for me." I sigh, hating that I have to lie so often, but knowing that there isn't any other way around it. Roger's fingers are once again tracing circles onto my back, and I have a hard time concentrating on the phone conversation.

"Well, that was rude of you, Mark." What? "Oh, well now you _have_ to stay, I suppose. Finish your project and then stay for dinner, but I want you home at seven, Mark. I want you _home_, do you understand me? Not in the car on the way home, but _home_," she says, her voice prompting me to think that there is no possible way for her to sound any more disappointed with me without sounding completely disgusted with me.

"Yeah, I understand."

"I'll see you at seven, then," she repeats, and I have a hard time keeping myself from screaming.

"Mhm. I've gotta go if I want to get this project done."

"Alright. Goodbye, dear," she says, and I don't respond before quickly dropping the phone on the receiver.

"Christ. What the hell was that?" Roger asks, but I don't respond as I swing my legs over the arm of the chair and sit with my back against the opposite arm, next to Roger. His arm loops around my waist and I readily accept the comfort, turning onto my side and burying my face in his shoulder.

Roger sits still for a moment, listening to my heavy breathing.

"Mark? Are you alright?" he asks before pressing his lips to the top of my head, and I take a deep breath.

"Yeah…it's just…my mom's so Goddamn…" I pull away from Roger and lean on my arm as support to push myself up. "It's sort of difficult to explain, so I'll put it simply. She's Jewish."

"Oh," Roger says, wincing slightly before pulling me into his lap. "Then…you're Jewish?"

"Yeah, didn't you know?"

"Nope." The other boy chuckles softly behind me, his arms wrapped loosely around my waist. I crane my neck to look at him, his bright green eyes meeting mine amusedly.

"What's so funny?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothin'," he replies, shaking his head, "Just forget it."

"Alright…" I trail, my thoughts straying back to my mom and how irritating she is.

"Mark, you're tense again. Quit thinking," Roger notices, his fingers starting to knead at the back of my shoulders and neck. I sink into his touch and try not to think about my mom, but rather of Roger.

I don't think I've ever felt this accepted before in my life, and I feel my heartbeat increase as I realize it's true. I've never been so at ease in somebody else's home, have never been so _happy_ before in my life.

I wish I could tell him, but the fear that he doesn't feel the same way keeps my mouth shut. Of course he doesn't feel the same way about me. He couldn't…

"So…you can stay?" he asks, a smile turning the edges of his lips up.

"Yeah…but only until seven. If my mom asks you, we were working on a Spanish project." I rub tiredly at my forehead, feeling Roger shift slightly underneath me.

"Yeah, I heard. Is your mom really that difficult?"

"Jewish."

"I guess…" I manage to climb off of Roger and lean against the wall, waiting for the other boy to follow.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, seeing him glance up at me before standing as well.

"For what?"

"For my mom acting like that." Roger sighs and walks over to me, placing his hands on my hips and pressing even closer to me until we're practically flush against each other.

"It's not your fault. Besides, you're here now. Forget about your mom…" he trails before his face lights up with an idea, a sly smirk making its way onto his face. "Here…I'll help you."

I'm taken slightly by surprise when Roger presses our lips together, but quickly recover and kiss him back, our mouths opening against each other as we share breath.

I press my hand to the back of his neck as Roger slides his tongue over my bottom lip, cautiously asking if he should deepen the kiss or not.

I open my mouth further for him, stifling a moan as his slick tongue slips in between my lips, wondering how Roger has managed to make me so completely _helpless_ to him again.

It's just a kiss. I shouldn't be in the palm of his hand with just a kiss…

But _God_ is he a good kisser…

"Did it work?" he asks, pulling away only slightly so that his breath washes over my cheek.

"What?" I breathe, still reeling slightly from his kiss.

"Good." I blush when Roger kisses me on the cheek and takes my hand in his, pulling me away from the wall before I realize.

Damn.

It did work.

"Thanks," I say, smiling when Roger's gaze meets mine.

"Any time," he replies, and my smile widens.

"How about now?" I ask, seeing him smirk.

"What about the dinner that my mother has slaved over for us?"

"No time like the present."

Roger pulls me into him, his eyes dancing with amusement as I use his turn of phrase.

"Exactly," he whispers before kissing me again, my eyes sliding shut as I loose myself in Roger, all thoughts of my mom and dinner and Spanish projects dissolving.

No time like the present.

* * *

**AN:** Was Roger's mum alright? I never really did have a solid, concrete picture of her in my mind, and I sort of just...yeah. Hopefully she was believable... Don't worry, she won't be so stiff later on, once she gets to know Mark. 

As always, review and you pwn my soul. Or maybe a minute of my time. :-D And it makes me very happy and willing to write more.

MUCH LOVE TO YOU ALL.


	4. File On You

**AN:** So...I don't think I replied to any reviews last chapter. Um...there isn't really any reason for that, really. I'm just finishing up school and have been procrastinating all work. Which includes anything other than lying around all day doing absolutely nothing. :-D Don't hate me. I wrote this for you all! I do love reading your guys' reviews, though, and appreciate any feedback you can give me.

Thanks! And sorry. Last day of school tomorrow! Whoo!

**Disclaimer:** Jonathan Larson's. JonathAn. With an 'a'. Because apparently I've been spelling it wrong all these years... :tear:

* * *

"Mm…do we have to leave?" I ask, feeling Roger's arm tighten around my waist as he pulls me closer to him. 

"Considering that we've been in here almost fifteen minutes… I'd say, yeah, probably." I sigh when Roger takes a step back, creating more distance between us, losing the contact that I'm starting to crave like a messed up drug addiction. I idly wonder what exactly it is about Roger that makes him the way he is… So…addictive.

"Roger?" We both take hasty steps away from each other when Roger's mom appears in the doorway, our hands unlacing as we try to look 'normal'. But what the hell _is_ 'normal', anyway? "Roger, David's home. Mark, have you called your parents yet?"

"Yeah…my mom said I could stay, but I've gotta be home by seven." I glance over to see Roger chewing on his bottom lip, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets as a slight scowl appears on his face. I smirk; I guess Roger is as fond of my mom as I am, and he hasn't even met her yet.

"Oh, well that's no problem. Roger can give you a ride home after supper, which is currently starting to get cold on the table."

"Sorry, mom," Roger mumbles, but Mrs. Davis only smiles.

"Don't worry about it."

"We'll be out in a second. I've got a quick question for Mark about anatomy…" Roger smiles, making my heart race in my chest almost immediately.

"Alright. David's changing, anyway. Try to be out in five minutes, okay boys?" We both nod and Mrs. Davis leaves the room, giving us more time together.

"What's your question?" I ask, moving to stand in front of Roger and smiling when his arms wrap around my waist again as he kisses my cheek lightly.

"Don't let David freak you out," he mumbles, and I choke on a laugh.

"What? Why would your step-dad freak me out?" I ask, pressing lightly on Roger's chest so that I can look into his eyes.

"'Cause…he can get a little…enthused about his work. And he'll probably ask you a shitload of questions about nothing in particular." Roger shrugs, and I smile as I start to play with the bottom of his shirt.

"Well…I think I can handle your interrogative step-dad. I'm sure he's nothing compared to my mom," I say reasonably, rationally.

"I want to meet her."

"What!" I ask, stunned as Roger grins and pulls me closer to him.

"I wanna meet your mom. She sounds…"

"Fuckin' insane?"

"Sure, yeah. But I still want to meet her. Besides, if we're gonna have sleepovers in the future…"

"Roger…"

"Then she'll probably want to know who exactly is stealing her precious baby boy away from her." I smirk as Roger continues to pull me closer, until we're practically flush against each other, his breath washing softly over my cheek.

"Your choice. Though I'm pretty sure you'll regret the decision after meeting her…"

"We'll see. I'm sure she'll be the picture perfect Scarsdale mom. Who is Jewish." Roger pauses, his eyebrows furrowed for a moment before obviously shaking it off, a small smirk replacing his pensive look.

"Exactly. Perfect Jewish Scarsdale mother. You're insane for wanting to meet her…" I sigh, letting my fingers trail up his neck.

"Don't forget you have to meet my step-dad. Don't start feeling sorry for me just yet…" Roger warns, making me snort.

"Seriously, what's the problem with your step-dad? You said you didn't hate him…" I stop when Roger laughs to glance up, seeing him shaking his head slightly as he looks down at me, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Just 'cause I don't hate him doesn't mean he's not weird as all fuck. We're like…you know, those kids who say 'hi' to each other in the hallway every day but don't talk otherwise," Roger explains, his fingers starting to tap lightly on the small of my back. "Does that make sense?"

"…sorta, I guess. Can I ask you something?" Roger raises an eyebrow, and I feel sort of awkward for broaching a possible touchy subject, but it's sort of confusing for me if I don't ask him.

"Shoot," Roger says, a smirk playing about his lips.

"Where's your real dad? You said your brother lives with him, but…"

"Ah. You want all of the gruesome details of my parents' divorce?"

"That's…that's not what I…"

"Chill, it's alright." Roger smirks before kissing me lightly on the cheek, making me blush. "Okay, well. My dad lives in Rockville Centre. It's like, an hour away from here.

"My brother, Bobby, is the result of my dad cheating with some other chick who left him a few weeks after she had Bobby. After my mom found out that my dad was cheating on her… Well, I don't really remember. I was like…3 when all of this happened, but apparently a lot of people expected my mom to be a lot more pissed than she really was. I guess there wasn't a bitter argument over custody of me or anything… I visit my dad every other weekend, which is fine.

"My mom's side of the family has practically shunned him, though they'll never admit to it. It's pretty fucked up. He still comes to family reunions and shit 'cause of me, but other than that he's basically cut off all contact with my mom's side of the family.

"My mom married David a couple years ago. He's like…five years younger than her, so it was pretty weird. My mom asked me if it was alright for her to remarry, but I told her it's not really my decision, ya know?

"Anyway, David's a nice enough guy. He doesn't try to be my dad, which is cool…is that all you wanted to…?"

"Roger, dinner!"

"Shit. Well, dinnertime, darling." Roger grins at the expression on my face before brushing his lips over mine, and I can't resist pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

Roger quickly catches up with my pace, pushing me back into the wall and opening his mouth against mine.

My breath catches in my throat as Roger becomes more insistent, as his tongue brushes over my lips, but I quickly pull away.

"We need to get to dinner. They might come looking for us…" Roger stares at me for a moment, almost like his brain is trying to catch up with the conversation before he smirks and shakes his head.

"Goddammit, Mark. Quit fuckin' distracting me…" He kisses me softly on the lips once more before pulling away, keeping our hands laced together.

"Sorry…" Roger grins and shakes his head again, my heart still pounding in my chest.

Roger's hand slips from mine as we make our way into the kitchen and I suddenly miss him, even though he's fucking standing right next to me. What the hell? How can I miss him when he isn't even technically gone?

"Roger, Mark. I see you've finally decided to join us…" Mrs. Davis says, and I smile sheepishly as Roger quickly kisses his mom on the cheek.

"Sorry, mom. Mark was trying to explain something to me. Food looks delicious, though," Roger quickly amends, and he takes a seat across the table from an empty one. "Here, Mark," he says, kicking the chair opposite him out from under the table, "take a seat."

I sit down, noticing the man sitting at the head of the table and trying to be discreet in my assessment of him.

Roger wasn't lying. This guy really does look younger than his mom.

"Ah, hello Mark," he says, his voice deep and nothing like Roger's, "I'm David." I catch Roger rolling his eyes from across the table, but I try to ignore him as best as I can.

"Nice to meet you…uh…David," I reply, feeling strange calling an adult by his first name.

"David's fine," he assures me, his dark brown eyes shining amusedly, "What class do you have with Roger?"

"We're in choir together…"

"And anatomy," Roger interjects, and I shoot him a cautious look across the table, but he merely shrugs.

"Oh, that's cool. Did you boys finish your homework?" David passes me the spaghetti, and I dish a small amount onto my plate, allowing Roger to answer the question.

"Yeah… We didn't have much homework, anyway," Roger says, and I nod in agreement.

"Really? I just got a call from school. You missed fourth through seventh hour."

Shit.

I glance up to meet Roger's gaze, watching as the other boy finishes his mouthful of spaghetti before responding.

"Yeah…um…I didn't feel good."

"Try again," Mrs. Davis says, sounding unconvinced. I bite my tongue to keep myself from laughing.

"I didn't study for a test that was fourth hour. I didn't want to fail." I quirk an eyebrow when I hear this, wondering how lying seemingly comes so easily to Roger.

"Okay, well. I guess you haven't missed that much school…even though it _is_ only the first month… Just, try not to let it happen too often this year, alright? I'll call you in." My jaw almost drops when I hear Roger's mom's words, wondering if everyone's parents are like this, and maybe I just got stuck with the short straw. My mom would have a conniption if I skipped…

…damn. My mom's gonna kill me.

"So, Mark. Are you a junior?" David asks me, and I quickly focus my attention on him.

"Um, no. Actually I'm a sophomore," I reply before taking a sip of water.

"Oh? I see. And did you meet Roger at one of his…what are they…'concerts'?" David continues, and I hear Roger sigh.

"David, we've got class together, remember?" Roger drawls, barely keeping his words from sounding too condescending.

"Oh, that's right. But if you're a sophomore, Mark, why are you in the junior classes?" David presses, obviously confused.

Oh, _God_…I'm so bad at lying…

"Well, choir isn't exactly advanced and anatomy's just… I just…like it, I guess." I ignore Roger as he practically chokes on his spaghetti.

"Really? That's cool. Is it something that you'd want to do for a career?" David asks, and I have to stop myself from groaning. I haven't even taken anatomy and physiology…

"Um…W…well, not…"

"Mark likes biology. He was really good at it last year, so they let him take an advanced course this year," Roger says, saving me from answering.

"That's cool," David says again, and I idly wonder why exactly he seems stuck on that one phrase, "How are you doing in the advanced class?"

"David…" Roger warns, but I just shrug.

"Alright."

"Don't the girls dig that, these days? The smart guys? Have you got yourself an older woman, Mark?" David asks, and this time I'm the one who's choking on spaghetti.

I open my mouth to reply after taking a large gulp of water, but Roger beats me to it, wiping tears out of his eyes.

"Yeah! Mark's got one helluva girlfriend, doncha, Mark?" I glare at Roger and turn to find David looking slightly stunned, despite himself.

"Roger…" I mumble, feeling the pinpricks of a blush as Roger nudges me with his foot underneath the table.

"Oh, come on. Your _girlfriend's_ hot as hell, Mark. Don't be ashamed to brag about her…" Roger continues, grinning at the expression on my face.

"Roger, stop teasing poor Mark. I haven't seen you bring home any girlfriends recently, so you really aren't one to talk…" Mrs. Davis cuts into the conversation, smiling knowingly.

"Aw, come on, Mom. You didn't like my last girlfriend, so maybe I'm just not bringing them home anymore." Roger crosses his arms over his chest and assumes a slight pout, although it disappears in an instant and is replaced by a smirk when my foot accidentally bumps his.

Accidentally, of course.

"I still didn't like that girl. What was her name? Chloe?"

"Mandy, mom."

"Well, whatever her name was. I didn't like her." Roger laughs and pushes his half empty plate away from him to look at his mom.

"What about Mark?" he asks, nodding his head towards me and grinning, "Do ya like him?"

"Mark seems like a nice boy." I blush and look down at my plate, feeling Roger's foot underneath the table rub against my leg again as Mrs. Davis looks at me and quirks an eyebrow. "Sometimes I wonder what exactly it is that I've raised…"

"Aw, mom. You know you love me!" Roger exclaims, and Mrs. Davis laughs softly.

"Yep, I've raised a lunatic. Which reminds me, your father called and wanted to know if you will be going to Rockville Centre this weekend?" Mrs. Davis asks and Roger grins at the not-too-subtle joke that was made at his father.

Roger's gaze meets mine and he holds it for the first time since we sat down, a questioning look hovering in his eyes.

"No…I…Mark and I have an anatomy project we've gotta get done this weekend. If he doesn't mind, could I stay here and go to his place next weekend?" Roger asks, breaking eye contact and looking back to his mom. I let out a relieved sigh.

"Sure. Why don't you give him a call to let him know?"

"I will after we eat and after I drive…shit. Mark, it's like, 6:29," Roger says, and I hurriedly glance at my watch.

Wait…I don't have to be home until sev…oh.

Right.

"We should go," Roger continues, standing up and taking our plates to the kitchen.

"I thought Mark could stay until seven," Mrs. Davis says, sounding mildly confused.

"Oh, did I say seven? Whoops. My mom wants me home by 6:30," I correct my 'mistake', attempting to sound as sincere as possible.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Mark," Mrs. Davis says kindly, standing up to shake my hand.

"Yes, nice meeting you too," I reply, and I hear Roger mumble 'hurry up' under his breath as he walks by.

"Glad to meet you, Mark. Thanks for helping Roger with anatomy," David says, also standing up to see me off.

"Yeah no…no problem. Thanks for dinner."

I stand awkward for a moment after Roger's mom tells me it was no problem having me for dinner until Roger forcibly pulls me out of the dining room.

"Come on, Mark. Wouldn't want to keep your mother waiting…" he murmurs, and I smirk.

"Oh, yeah…_right_. Wouldn't want to keep my mom waiting, or you?" I retort before Roger's lips are on mine, kissing me quickly.

"Maybe a little of both," he admits, ushering me out the door.

"See ya, Ches," I say, patting Chester on the head twice before we're outside, Roger shoving my jacket into my hands.

"Well, thank God _that's_ over," Roger sighs, stretching his arms over his head, "David's fucking lame."

"Yeah, but he didn't freak me out," I assure him, grinning as he slowly closes the distance between us as we head towards his car.

"Good," he says, slinging an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into him so that he can whisper into my ear, "We need to talk."

"Mm…about what?" I ask as I climb into his car, pulling the door shut behind me and waiting for Roger.

"What we're gonna do about us," he replies, starting the engine and reaching back to pull his seatbelt on.

"What about us?" Roger pauses, his hand floating somewhere behind his head as he stops his search for the seatbelt and instead puts the car in reverse, backing slowly out of the driveway.

"Where do you live?"

I hastily tell him my address, wondering what else is on the other boy's mind. What do we need to talk about?

The car is silent on the drive to my house, and halfway there Roger reaches down and turns on the radio, to create some noise to fill up the absolute quiet.

It's the first time I feel this uncomfortable around him, not knowing what he's thinking, wondering what's wrong…_if_ anything is wrong.

"Roger, pull over here," I say, a couple blocks away from my house. This has gone on far enough…

"Let's walk," Roger explains as he opens his door and steps out into the street before making his way to the sidewalk. He shoves his hands in his pockets and waits for me to join him, which I do so tentatively.

"Okay…what's up?" I ask as soon as I slam the door shut, ducking slightly underneath Roger's arm as he slings it around my shoulder.

"Nothing…bad. I was just wondering what you wanted us to do like…tomorrow," he says vaguely, leaning into me and slipping his other hand into his jacket pocket.

"What? What happens tomorrow?" I ask dumbly, trying to understand what exactly Roger is saying.

"School, duh. What do you want us to…be?" he teases, flicking me on the nose. I glare at him and attempt to shrug his arm off, but he only chuckles and pulls me closer.

"I don't care. As long as my mom and dad don't find out, we could be fucking…"

"Whoa, Mark."

"…doing anything we want at school, is what I was going to say, if you would have let me finish…" I mumble, blushing brightly.

"Aw, sorry. I didn't mean to cut you off, but you can't just say shit like that, Mark…" Roger grins and slides his arm from around my shoulders to lace his fingers with mine instead.

I glance behind us, feeling sort of paranoid that somebody I know will see me and tell my mom or something…but I'm just being paranoid.

Right?

"Is everything alright?" Roger asks, quirking an eyebrow and smirking, almost like he expected this reaction from me.

"Y…yeah, of course," I murmur, sort of pissed that Roger's so seemingly comfortable with being out in public together like this. "I'm fine," I say, keeping my eyes locked on the sidewalk.

We walk for a few more seconds until I feel Roger's eyes on me. I glance up to see him staring at me, a slight smirk on his face.

"What?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't believe you," he replies, and I stop walking when he drops my hand. I stand still, my arms hanging at my sides, watching as Roger takes a few more steps before turning around, his eyebrows raised in a conclusive look.

"You don't believe me…about what?" I ask, sliding my hands into my pockets.

"That you don't care about us in public. I don't believe you." Roger turns back around and starts walking away, but not before I notice a grin on his face.

That jackass…  
"Why wouldn't you believe me?" I ask, hurrying to catch up with him.

"'Cause…" he trails, glancing at me. "You worry a lot."

"No I don't," I snort, knowing that compared to Cindy I don't worry at all.

"Yeah, you do. But it's alright, I get it. We'll just have to save things for the weekend. No big deal…" I scowl at the tone in his voice, sounding like he's about to crack up at any given moment, "Anyway, it's five till. We should get going."

I stop walking again as Roger abruptly turns around and starts heading back to his car, wondering what the hell his problem is.

"Oh. I get it," I say, smirking as he stops walking to turn around and look at me.

"What?" he asks innocently, rocking back on his heels.

"You just want me to deny it enough so that I get frustrated and try to _prove_ you wrong," I explain, smirking as I walk to stand closely in front of him.

"No," he says shortly, although by the way he wraps his arms around my waist and attempts to keep a straight face, I'd say that I was right.

"No?" I repeat, quirking an eyebrow, "Oh. Well, if that's not the case, then it's _you_ who is uncomfortable being together in public."

"What?" he asks incredulously, "How did you make _that_ connection?"

"Fine," I say, ignoring his question, "You're right, though. We should get going…" I start to turn away, satisfied that I didn't give into Roger's games when I feel him grab my wrist, his fingers gripping tightly as he pulls me back to him.

"Okay, fine!" he laughs, pulling me back into him, "You were right." I look up at him and let my eyes linger, feeling my chest constrict as I seemingly ask myself for the thousandth time how we ended up together. Me and Roger… Pale, skinny, dorky Jewish boys don't date sweet, sexy, passionate, understanding, caring…

"So, let's get this straight. You're alright with us being…together at school and stuff," he says slowly, holding my gaze with his.

"Yes, and you?" I ask, running my fingers over his stomach.

"Yep," he agrees, inclining his head slightly. I reach up and cup the side of his face, brushing my thumb over his cheek and down to his lips before pulling him closer to me.

"Good," I murmur before Roger closes the distance between our mouths, pressing our lips together firmly.

I reach up to play with the short, bleach blond hair at the nape of his neck, feeling Roger's fingers grip my hips tightly to pull me closer into him before allowing his arms to slide around my waist, our body's pressed tightly together.

I feel his heart pounding in his chest against mine, his rough fingertips trailing down my neck, his warm lips moving gently over mine, pulling me in as I become completely wrapped up in the other boy. His scent, his warmth, how his fingers press into my back, almost desperately, like he needs to feel more of me against him, more of this warmth, this heat.

I open my mouth against his, but quickly pull out of the kiss when I feel his tongue brush over my bottom lip, not wanting this to turn into a make-out session. While I honestly don't care if Roger holds my hand, kisses me in public, I don't exactly want us to be exhibitionists.

"What?" Roger asks, and I smile, noticing the slight flush to his face. I press my hand to his cheek and bring his face to mine once more to kiss him lightly.

"Come on. We're gonna be late," I say and Roger presses his forehead against mine, sighing softly.

"You should spend the night at my house," he murmurs, and I smirk as I lace our fingers together and start to pull him back to his car.

"Yeah, right. I'm sure my mom would go for that," I laugh, looking over to Roger when he falls into step next to me.

"She might," he shrugs, and I shake my head firmly.

"No, she won't," I say, knowing that my mom's already going to be pissed with me for the many things I've done wrong today. Skipped school, gone to some strange boy's house, didn't call her… She's probably got a list waiting for me.

"Fine," Roger sighs, and I let go of his hand to open the car door.

God, we're only going to be separated for a night, but with the way Roger's acting it's almost like I'm going away for a week. It won't be that difficult…he'll survive.

Besides, I need some time to think, and having Roger with me sort of makes that hard.

I smile when Roger takes my hand in his and brings them to rest on his knee, glancing at me for a moment before I notice him blushing and chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

Impossible, actually.

* * *

**AN:** Well, what'd ya think? Did the fluff overtake your mind? Hehe. Yeah. Me too. 

Next update will be quicker! Summer Vacation, heck yes!


End file.
